Lilly Jackson: The Sea of Monsters
by lovecats20000
Summary: I took two pebbles out of my pocket. One turned into a four foot long Stygian iron sword and the other into a Stygian iron shield. "I am not going to fight a mortal. Again." Zeus said. I sighed. "Of course you would run from me. I assumed as much. You run from everything. Typhon, Kronos, angry chickens..." I never got a chance to finish. "Alright!" He snapped.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I can't believe this is happening. I'm sorry I accidentally deleted it the first time. I will try to make this better. Anyway, all credits to Rick Riordan. I'm kind of glad I messed up because there is one thing I wanted to add but forgot. Lilly's POV.

It was May eighth. I was still pissed at Zeus. He had blamed my father for something he didn't do. He put my brother in danger. He let Hades kidnap my mom. He -

Before I could finish my thought Percy came in.

"How was school? Is Tyson okay?" I asked. He had sea-green eyes just like mine. He had the same black hair. He was five years younger than me. I didn't go to school. I had gotten kicked out of every school within a five mile radius.

"It was alright." Percy said.

"Is Matt still bothering you?"

"Yeah but don't hurt him."

"You sure? I bet I could chip his other tooth." I said mimicking the action with my fist. Percy chuckled.

"Nah. That's okay."

It was only about fifteen minutes later when mom walked in. She had straight brown hair and blue eyes. She has a few gray strands in her hair but she didn't look old. She came over and hugged us.

"Hi Mom." I said

She asked us how are days went. Percy told us something that I thought was very unusual. No monsters.

"Yay!" I yelled before hugging him. We all cracked up.

Later that night, at about three in the morning, I pulled on a black jacket, black jeans and my combat boots. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I wanted to blend in with the shadows. I snuck out the door and hoped Percy wouldn't wake up and follow me.

I walked down the street and ducked inside of an ally and waited. I waited there for about an hour. As soon as Zeus walked by I grabbed his arm.

"What do you want Lilly?" He asked.

"Follow me." I said.

He must've been pretty stupid because he followed. What idiot follows their sworn enemy down a dark ally at three in the morning?

As we were coming to the end of the ally I stopped but Zeus took a couple of steps before he noticed I had stopped. I took two pebbles out of my pocket. One turned into a four foot long Stygian iron sword and the other into a Stygian iron shield.

"I am not going to fight a mortal. Again." He said.

I sighed. Of course you would run from me. I assumed as much. You run from everything. Typhon, Kronos, angry chickens..." I never got a chance to finish.

"Alright!" He snapped.

He summoned a sword and swung at my head. I ducked and stabbed his foot. He dropped his sword and stabbed him in the stomach. He dropped to the ground. I was already board so I put my weapons away and turned around and went home

When I got home. I'll say I was surprised. Percy was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Where were you?" He asked suspiciously.

"I couldn't get to sleep so I took a walk." I said.

"Really?" He asked.

I nodded. I heard the door open behind me. Athena ran in without closing the door. She had about fifty papers in her hand and several of them had fallen onto the floor. Her grey eyes told me she was really tired. Her black hair was a rat's mess and at the current moment she was wearing her pajamas. Her owl Molly was sitting on her shoulder. Athena and I had been working on a plan for Kronos (Behind Zeus's royal back of course. Since he refused to talk about it.) I was surprised when Athena had asked for my help. Maybe it was because no one else wanted to talk about it. Maybe she realized I had more intelligence then a turkey addicted to losing brain cells. We got along alright but she did not get along with Percy. What I didn't understand was that Percy had been nothing but nice to her.

Athena looked at me.

"Were you just out fighting Zeus? Because he called me and said..."

"Yes Athena." Percy said.

She turned towards me. "WHY?" She asked.

"When he hurts everything I care about, I stick my foot up his ass." I said.

She sighed. "The main reason I came down here was because I think I found a solution for Kronos." She started flipping through her papers and muttering to herself. "No not that one. No. no. Is this.. nope not that one." Molly flew off her shoulder and out into the hallway. When she came back she was holding a piece of paper in her beak. Athena took it and looked it over for a second.

"Thank you." She told the owl before handing it too me.

I frowned it was a good plan but there was that one issue...

"I don't think we have enough Demigods. Besides it's risky." I said. She nodded.

"I was afraid of that."

"What about all those other papers?"

"Oh. Those are nothing."

"That's good. Seeing as you've lost most of them." I said gesturing to the papers.

She glared at me. "Oh shut up."

One of the neighbors starting walking down the stairs. He was on his cell phone.

"Yeah I just got an emergency call I have to - Whoa!" I heard a loud thump and for a second it was silent. Then he started cursing.

"What are all of these paper's doing here?" He muttered to himself.

Athena closed the door. Percy and I cracked up.

"I almost forgot!" Athena said. "I wanted to tell you that camp will be in danger soon."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked.

"I'm afraid that is all I can tell you."

Then she exploded into a coloum of flames and dissapeared.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Here is the second chapter! Credits to Rick Riordan. Percy POV.**

**My best friend shops for a wedding dress**

My nightmare started like this.

I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.

Florida, I thought. Though I wasn't sure how I knew that. I'd never been to Florida.

Then I heard hooves clattering against the pavement. I turned and saw my friend Grover running for his life.

Yeah, I said hooves.

Grover is a satyr. From the waist up, he looks like a typical gangly teenager with a peach-fuzz goatee and a bad case of acne. He walks with a strange limp, but unless you happen to catch him without his pants on (which I don't recommend), you'd never know there was anything un-human about him. Baggy jeans and fake feet hide the fact that he's got furry hindquarters and hooves.

Grover had been my best friend in sixth grade. He'd gone on this adventure with me and a girl named Annabeth to save the world, but I hadn't seen him since last July, when he set off alone on a dangerous quest-a quest no satyr had ever returned from.

Anyway, in my dream, Grover was hauling goat tail, holding his human shoes in his hands the way he does when he needs to move fast. He clopped past the little tourist shops and surfboard rental places. The wind bent the palm trees almost to the ground.

Grover was terrified of something behind him. He must've just come from the beach. Wet sand was caked in his fur. He'd escaped from somewhere. He was trying to get away from … something.

A bone-rattling growl cut through the storm. Behind Grover, at the far end of the block, a shadowy figure loomed. It swatted aside a street lamp, which burst in a shower of sparks.

Grover stumbled, whimpering in fear. He muttered to himself, Have to get away. Have to warn them!

I couldn't see what was chasing him, but I could hear it muttering and cursing. The ground shook as it got closer. Grover dashed around a street corner and faltered. He'd run into a dead-end courtyard full of shops. No time to back up. The nearest door had been blown open by the storm. The sign above the darkened display window read: ST. AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE.

Grover dashed inside. He dove behind a rack of wedding dresses.

The monster's shadow passed in front of the shop. I could smell the thing-a sickening combination of wet sheep wool and rotten meat and that weird sour body odor only monsters have, like a skunk that's been living off Mexican food.

Grover trembled behind the wedding dresses. The monster's shadow passed on.

Silence except for the rain. Grover took a deep breath. Maybe the thing was gone.

Then lightning flashed. The entire front of the store exploded, and a monstrous voice bellowed: "MIIIIINE!"

I sat bolt upright, shivering in my bed. Lilly was looking down at me, her sea-green eyes full of concern. She put her hand on my arm.

"What's wrong champ?" She asked. I explained my dream and looked around again.

There was no storm. No monster.

Morning sunlight filtered through my bedroom window.

I thought I saw a shadow flicker across the glass-a humanlike shape. But then there was a knock on my bedroom door-my mom called: "Percy, you're going to be late"-and the shadow at the window disappeared.

It must've been my imagination. A fifth-story window with a rickety old fire escape … there couldn't have been anyone out there.

Lilly hugged me.

"Come on, dear," my mother called again. "Last day of school. You should be excited! You've almost made it.'"

"Coming," I managed.

I felt under my pillow. My fingers closed reassuringly around the ballpoint pen I always slept with. I brought it out, studied the Ancient Greek writing engraved on the side: Anaklusmos. Riptide.

I thought about uncapping it, but something held me back. I hadn't used Riptide for so long….

Besides, my mom had made me promise not to use deadly weapons in the apartment after I'd swung a javelin the wrong way and taken out her china cabinet.

I put Anaklusmos on my nightstand and dragged myself out of bed.

I got dressed as quickly as I could. I tried not to think about my nightmare or monsters or the shadow at my window.

Have to get away. Have to warn them!

What had Grover meant?

I made a three-fingered claw over my heart and pushed outward-an ancient gesture Grover had once taught me for warding off evil.

The dream couldn't have been real.

"Look Percy, I have to get to camp. Something's wrong."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." She said. I tried to talk her into not going but I don't know if she listened.

Last day of school. My mom was right, I should have been excited. For the first time in my life, I'd almost made it an entire year without getting expelled. No weird accidents. No fights in the classroom. No teachers turning into monsters and trying to kill me with poisoned cafeteria food or exploding homework. Tomorrow, I'd be on my way to my favorite place in the world-Camp Half-Blood.

Only one more day to go. Surely even I couldn't mess that up.

As usual, I didn't have a clue how wrong I was.

My mom made blue waffles and blue eggs for breakfast. She's funny that way, celebrating special occasions with blue food. I think it's her way of saying anything is possible. Percy can pass seventh grade. Waffles can be blue. Little miracles like that.

I spotted Lilly's book bag on the floor and I knew she couldn't be at camp. As soon as I felt the slightest bit realived Lilly burst in, grabbed her bag, and ran out without even closing the door. My mom closed the door.

I ate at the kitchen table while my mom washed dishes. She was dressed in her work uniform-a starry blue skirt and a red-and-white striped blouse she wore to sell candy at Sweet on America. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

The waffles tasted great, but I guess I wasn't digging in like I usually did. My mom looked over and frowned. "Percy, are you all right?"

"Yeah … fine."

But she could always tell when something was bothering me. She dried her hands and sat down across from me. "School, or …"

She didn't need to finish. I knew what she was asking.

"I think Grover's in trouble," I said, and I told her about my dream.

She pursed her lips. We didn't talk much about the other part of my life. We tried to live as normally as possible, but my mom knew all about Grover.

"I wouldn't be too worried, dear," she said. "Grover is a big satyr now. If there were a problem, I'm sure we would've heard from … from camp… ." Her shoulders tensed as she said the word camp.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I'll tell you what. This afternoon we'll celebrate the end of school. I'll take you and Tyson to Rockefeller Center-to that skateboard shop you like."

Oh, man, that was tempting. We were always struggling with money. Between my mom's night classes and my private school tuition, we could never afford to do special stuff like shop for a skateboard. But something in her voice bothered me.

"Wait a minute," I said. "I thought we were packing me up for camp tonight."

She twisted her dishrag. "Ah, dear, about that … I got a message from Chiron last night."

My heart sank. Chiron was the activities director at Camp Half-Blood. He wouldn't contact us unless something serious was going on. "What did he say?"

"He thinks … it might not be safe for you to come to camp just yet. We might have to postpone."

"Postpone? Mom, how could it not be safe? I'm a half-blood! It's like the only safe place on earth for me!"

"Usually, dear. But with the problems they're having-"

"What problems?"

"Percy … I'm very, very sorry. I was hoping to talk to you about it this afternoon. I can't explain it all now. I'm not even sure Chiron can. Everything happened so suddenly."

My mind was reeling. How could I not go to camp? I wanted to ask a million questions, but just then the kitchen clock chimed the half-hour.

My mom looked almost relieved. "Seven-thirty, dear. You should go. Tyson will be waiting."

"But-"

"Percy, we'll talk this afternoon. Go on to school."

That was the last thing I wanted to do, but my mom had this fragile look in her eyes-a kind of warning, like if I pushed her too hard she'd start to cry. Besides, she was right about my friend Tyson. I had to meet him at the subway station on time or he'd get upset. He was scared of traveling underground alone.

I gathered up my stuff, but I stopped in the doorway. "Mom, this problem at camp. Does it… could it have anything to do with my dream about Grover?"

She wouldn't meet my eyes. "We'll talk this afternoon, dear. I'll explain … as much as I can."

Reluctantly, I told her good-bye. I jogged downstairs to catch the Number Two train.

I didn't know it at the time, but my mom and I would never get to have our afternoon talk.

In fact, I wouldn't be seeing home for a long, long time.

As I stepped outside, I glanced at the brownstone building across the street. Just for a second I saw a dark shape in the morning sunlight-a human silhouette against the brick wall, a shadow that belonged to no one.

Then it rippled and vanished.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Here is the third chapter! Credits to Rick Riordan. Percy POV.**

**I Play Dodgeball With Cannibals**

My day started normal. Or as normal as it ever gets at Meriwether College Prep.

See, it's this "progressive" school in downtown Manhattan, which means we sit on beanbag chairs instead of at desks, and we don't get grades, and the teachers wear jeans and rock concert T-shirts to work.

That's all cool with me. I mean, I'm ADHD and dyslexic, like most half-bloods, so I'd never done that great in regular schools even before they kicked me out. The only bad thing about Meriwether was that the teachers always looked on the bright side of things, and the kids weren't always … well, bright.

Take my first class today: English. The whole middle school had read this book called Lord of the Flies, where all these kids get marooned on an island and go psycho. So for our final exam, our teachers sent us into the break yard to spend an hour with no adult supervision to see what would happen. What happened was a massive wedgie contest between the seventh and eighth graders, two pebble fights, and a full-tackle basketball game. The school bully, Matt Sloan, led most of those activities.

Sloan wasn't big or strong, but he acted like he was. He had eyes like a pit bull, and shaggy black hair, and he always dressed in expensive but sloppy clothes, like he wanted everybody to see how little he cared about his family's money. One of his front teeth was chipped from the time he'd taken his daddy's Porsche for a joyride and run into a PLEASE SLOW DOWN FOR CHILDREN sign.

Anyway, Sloan was giving everybody wedgies until he made the mistake of trying it on my friend Tyson.

Tyson was the only homeless kid at Meriwether College Prep. As near as my mom and I could figure, he'd been abandoned by his parents when he was very young, probably because he was so … different. He was six-foot-three and built like the Abominable Snowman, but he cried a lot and was scared of just about everything, including his own reflection. His face was kind of misshapen and brutal-looking. I couldn't tell you what color his eyes were, because I could never make myself look higher than his crooked teeth. His voice was deep, but he talked funny, like a much younger kid-I guess because he'd never gone to school before coming to Meriwether. He wore tattered jeans, grimy size-twenty sneakers, and a plaid flannel shirt with holes in it. He smelled like a New York City alleyway, because that's where he lived, in a cardboard refrigerator box off 72nd Street.

Meriwether Prep had adopted him as a community service project so all the students could feel good about themselves. Unfortunately, most of them couldn't stand Tyson. Once they discovered he was a big softie, despite his massive strength and his scary looks, they made themselves feel good by picking on him. I was pretty much his only friend, which meant he was my only friend.

My mom and Lilly had complained to the school a million times that they weren't doing enough to help him. They'd called social services, but nothing ever seemed to happen. The social workers claimed Tyson didn't exist. They swore up and down that they'd visited the alley we described and couldn't find him, though how you miss a giant kid living in a refrigerator box, I don't know.

Anyway, Matt Sloan snuck up behind him and tried to give him a wedgie, and Tyson panicked. He swatted Sloan away a little too hard. Sloan flew fifteen feet and got tangled in the little kids' tire swing.

"You freak!" Sloan yelled. "Why don't you go back to your cardboard box!"

Tyson started sobbing. He sat down on the jungle gym so hard he bent the bar, and buried his head in his hands.

"Take it back, Sloan!" I shouted.

Sloan just sneered at me. "Why do you even bother, Jackson? You might have friends if you weren't always sticking up for that freak."

I balled my fists. I hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt. "He's not a freak. He's just…"

I tried to think of the right thing to say, but Sloan wasn't listening. He and his big ugly friends were too busy laughing. I wondered if it were my imagination, or if Sloan had more goons hanging around him than usual. I was used to seeing him with two or three, but today he had like, half a dozen more, and I was pretty sure I'd never seen them before.

"Just wait till PE, Jackson," Sloan called. "You are so dead."

All of a sudden a stream of water sprayed him in the face. I just sighed.

When first period ended, our English teacher, Mr. de Milo, came outside to inspect the carnage. He pronounced that we'd understood Lord of the Flies perfectly. We all passed his course, and we should never, never grow up to be violent people. Matt Sloan nodded earnestly, then gave me a chip-toothed grin.

I had to promise to buy Tyson an extra peanut butter sandwich at lunch to get him to stop sobbing.

"I … I am a freak?" he asked me.

"No," I promised, gritting my teeth. "Matt Sloan is the freak."

Tyson sniffled. "You are a good friend. Miss you next year if … if I can't …"

His voice trembled. I realized he didn't know if he'd be invited back next year for the community service project. I wondered if the headmaster had even bothered talking to him about it.

"Don't worry, big guy," I managed. "Everything's going to be fine."

Tyson gave me such a grateful look I felt like a big liar. How could I promise a kid like him that anything would be fine?

Our next exam was science. Mrs. Tesla told us that we had to mix chemicals until we succeeded in making something explode, Tyson was my lab partner. His hands were way too big for the tiny vials we were supposed to use. He accidentally knocked a tray of chemicals off the counter and made an orange mushroom cloud in the trash can.

After Mrs. Tesla evacuated the lab and called the hazardous waste removal squad, she praised Tyson and me for being natural chemists. We were the first ones who'd ever aced her exam in under thirty seconds.

I was glad the morning went fast, because it kept me from thinking too much about my problems. I couldn't stand the idea that something might be wrong at camp. Even worse, I couldn't shake the memory of my bad dream. I had a terrible feeling that Grover was in danger.

In social studies, while we were drawing latitude/longitude maps, I opened my notebook and stared at the photo inside-my friend Annabeth on vacation in Washington, D.C. She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket over her orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a bandanna. She was standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial with her arms crossed, looking extremely pleased with herself, like she'd personally designed the place. See, Annabeth wants to be an architect when she grows up, so she's always visiting famous monuments and stuff. She's weird that way. She'd e-mailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself she was real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been my imagination.

I wished Annabeth were here. She'd know what to make of my dream. I'd never admit it to her, but she was smarter than me,

even if she was annoying sometimes.

I was about to close my notebook when Matt Sloan reached over and ripped the photo out of the rings.

"Hey!" I protested.

Sloan checked out the picture and his eyes got wide. "No way, Jackson. Who is that? She is not your-"

"Give it back!" My ears felt hot.

Sloan handed the photo to his ugly buddies, who snickered and started ripping it up to make spit wads. They were new kids who must've been visiting, because they were all wearing those stupid HI! MY NAME IS: tags from the admissions office. They must've had a weird sense of humor, too, because they'd all filled in strange names like: MARROW SUCKER, SKULL EATER, and JOE BOB. No human beings had names like that.

"These guys are moving here next year," Sloan bragged, like that was supposed to scare me. "I bet they can pay the tuition, too, unlike your retard friend."

"He's not retarded." I had to try really, really hard not to punch Sloan in the face. Water sprayed him in the face again. He growled and wiped it off his face.

"You're such a loser, Jackson. Good thing I'm gonna put you out of your misery next period."

"Hey! At least he can get a girl!" Lilly's voice said.

They all looked around and then continued to chewed up my photo. I wanted to pulverize them, but I was under strict orders from Chiron never to take my anger out on regular mortals, no matter how obnoxious they were. I had to save my fighting for monsters.

Still, part of me thought, if Sloan only knew who I really was …

The bell rang.

As Tyson and I were leaving class,Annabeth's voice whispered, "Percy!"

I looked around the locker area, but nobody was paying me any attention.

Before I had time to consider whether or not I'd been imagining things, a crowd of kids rushed for the gym, carrying Tyson and me along with them. It was time for PE. Our coach had promised us a free-for-all dodgeball game, and Matt Sloan had promised to kill me.

The gym uniform at Meriwether is sky blue shorts and tie-dyed T-shirts. Fortunately, we did most of our athletic stuff inside, so we didn't have to jog through Tribeca looking like a bunch of boot-camp hippie children.

I changed as quickly as I could in the locker room because I didn't want to deal with Sloan. I was about to leave when Tyson called, "Percy?"

He hadn't changed yet. He was standing by the weight room door, clutching his gym clothes. "Will you … uh …"

"Oh. Yeah." I tried not to sound aggravated about it. "Yeah, sure, man."

Tyson ducked inside the weight room. I stood guard outside the door while he changed. I felt kind of awkward doing this, but he asked me to most days. I think it's because he's completely hairy and he's got weird scars on his back that I've never had the courage to ask him about.

Anyway, I'd learned the hard way that if people teased Tyson while he was dressing out, he'd get upset and start ripping the doors off lockers.

When we got into the gym, Coach Nunley was sitting at his little desk reading Sports Illustrated. Nunley was about a million years old, with bifocals and no teeth and a greasy wave of gray hair. He reminded me of the Oracle at Camp Half-Blood-which was a shriveled-up mummy-except Coach Nunley moved a lot less and he never billowed green smoke. Well, at least not that I'd observed.

Matt Sloan said, "Coach, can I be captain?"

"Eh?" Coach Nunley looked up from his magazine. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Mm-hmm."

Sloan grinned and took charge of the picking. He made me the other team's captain, but it didn't matter who I picked, because all the jocks and the popular kids moved over to Sloan's side. So did the big group of visitors.

On my side I had Tyson, Corey Bailer the computer geek, Raj Mandali the calculus whiz, and a half dozen other kids who always got harassed by Sloan and his gang. Normally I would've been okay with just Tyson-he was worth half a team all by himself-but the visitors on Sloan's team were almost as tall and strong-looking as Tyson, and there were six of them.

Matt Sloan spilled a cage full of balls in the middle of the gym.

"Scared," Tyson mumbled. "Smell funny."

I looked at him. "What smells funny?" Because I didn't figure he was talking about himself.

"Them." Tyson pointed at Sloan's new friends. "Smell funny."

The visitors were cracking their knuckles, eyeing us like it was slaughter time. I couldn't help wondering where they were from. Someplace where they fed kids raw meat and beat them with sticks.

Sloan blew the coach's whistle and the game began. Sloan's team ran for the center line. On my side, Raj Mandali yelled something in Urdu, probably "I have to go potty!" and ran for the exit. Corey Bailer tried to crawl behind the wall mat and hide. The rest of my team did their best to cower in fear and not look like targets.

"Tyson," I said. "Let's g-"

A ball slammed into my gut. I sat down hard in the middle of the gym floor. The other team exploded in laughter.

My eyesight was fuzzy. I felt like I'd just gotten the Heimlich maneuver from a gorilla. I couldn't believe anybody could throw that hard.

Tyson yelled, "Percy, duck!"

I rolled as another dodgeball whistled past my ear at the speed of sound.

Whooom!

It hit the wall mat, and Corey Bailer yelped.

"Hey!" I yelled at Sloan's team. "You could kill somebody!"

The visitor named Joe Bob grinned at me evilly. Somehow, he looked a lot bigger now … even taller than Tyson. His biceps bulged beneath his T-shirt. "I hope so, Perseus Jackson! I hope so!"

The way he said my name sent a chill down my back. Nobody called me Perseus except those who knew my true identity. Friends … and enemies.

What had Tyson said? They smell funny.

Monsters.

All around Matt Sloan, the visitors were growing in size. They were no longer kids. They were eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, pointy teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes and hula women and Valentine hearts.

Matt Sloan dropped his ball. "Whoa! You're not from Detroit! Who …"

The other kids on his team started screaming and backing toward the exit, but the giant named Marrow Sucker threw a ball with deadly accuracy. It streaked past Raj Mandali just as he was about to leave and hit the door, slamming it shut like magic. Raj and some of the other kids banged on it desperately but it wouldn't budge.

"Let them go!" I yelled at the giants.

The one called Joe Bob growled at me. He had a tattoo on his biceps that said: JB luvs Babycakes. "And lose our tasty morsels? No, Son of the Sea God. We Laistrygonians aren't just playing for your death. We want lunch!"

He waved his hand and a new batch of dodgeballs appeared on the center line-but these balls weren't made of red rubber. They were bronze, the size of cannon balls, perforated like wiffle balls with fire bubbling out the holes. They must've been searing hot, but the giants picked them up with their bare hands. Lilly appeared next to me.

"Coach!" I yelled.

Nunley looked up sleepily, but if he saw anything abnormal about the dodgeball game, he didn't let on. That's the problem with mortals. A magical force called the Mist obscures the true appearance of monsters and gods from their vision, so mortals tend to see only what they can understand. Maybe the coach saw a few eighth graders pounding the younger kids like usual. Maybe the other kids saw Matt Sloan's thugs getting ready to toss Molotov cocktails around. (It wouldn't have been the first time.) At any rate, I was pretty sure nobody else realized we were dealing with genuine man-eating bloodthirsty monsters.

"Yeah. Mm-hmm," Coach muttered. "Play nice."

And he went back to his magazine.

The giant named Skull Eater threw his ball. I dove aside as the fiery bronze comet sailed past my shoulder.

"Corey!" I screamed.

Tyson pulled him out from behind the exercise mat just as the ball exploded against it, blasting the mat to smoking shreds.

"Run!" I told my teammates. "The other exit!"

They ran for the locker room, but with another wave of Joe Bob's hand, that door also slammed shut.

"No one leaves unless you're out!" Joe Bob roared. "And you're not out until we eat you!"

He launched his own fireball. My teammates scattered as it blasted a crater in the gym floor.

I reached for Riptide, which I always kept in my pocket, but then I realized I was wearing gym shorts. I had no pockets. Riptide was tucked in my jeans inside my gym locker. And the locker room door was sealed. I was completely defenseless.

Another fireball came streaking toward me. Tyson pushed me out of the way, but the explosion still blew me head over heels. I found myself sprawled on the gym floor, dazed from smoke, my tie-dyed T-shirt peppered with sizzling holes. Just across the center line, two hungry giants were glaring down at me. One exploded into flames then the other.

"My brothers!" Joe Bob the Cannibal wailed. He flexed his muscles and his Babycakes tattoo rippled. "You will pay for their destruction!"

"Tyson!" I said. "Look out!"

Another comet hurtled toward us. Tyson just had time to swat it aside. It flew straight over Coach Nunley's head and landed in the bleachers with a huge KA-BOOM!

Kids were running around screaming, trying to avoid the sizzling craters in the floor. Others were banging on the door, calling for help. Sloan himself stood petrified in the middle of the court, watching in disbelief as balls of death flew around him. Lilly was busy trying to keep herself from getting baked alive.

Coach Nunley still wasn't seeing anything. He tapped his hearing aid like the explosions were giving him interference, but he kept his eyes on his magazine.

Surely the whole school could hear the noise. The headmaster, the police, somebody would come help us.

"Victory will be ours!" roared Joe Bob the Cannibal. "We will feast on your bones!"

I wanted to tell him he was taking the dodgeball game way too seriously, but before I could, he hefted another ball. The other three giants followed his lead. Lilly snuck up behind one and stabbed him. He exploded into flames. One giant turned and got ready to throw another one at her.

I had a crazy idea.

I ran toward the locker room.

"Move!" I told my teammates. "Away from the door."

Explosions behind me.

A ball hurtled straight at me. I forced myself to wait-one Mississippi, two Mississippi-then dove aside as the fiery sphere demolished the locker room door.

Now, I figured that the built-up gas in most boys' locker rooms was enough to cause an explosion, so I wasn't surprised when the flaming dodgeball ignited a huge WHOOOOOOOM!

The wall blew apart. Locker doors, socks, athletic supporters, and other various nasty personal belongings rained all over the gym.

I turned just in time to see Tyson punch Skull Eater in the face. The giant crumpled. But the last giant, Joe Bob, had wisely held on to his own ball, waiting for an opportunity. He threw just as Tyson was turning to face him.

"No!" I yelled.

The ball caught Tyson square in the chest. He slid the length of the court and slammed into the back wall, which cracked and partially crumbled on top of him, making a hole right onto Church Street. I didn't see how Tyson could still be alive, but he only looked dazed. The bronze ball was smoking at his feet. Tyson tried to pick it up, but he fell back, stunned, into a pile of cinder blocks.

"He's strong." Leo commented.

"Well!" Joe Bob gloated. "I'm the last one standing! I'll have enough meat to bring Babycakes a doggie bag!"

He picked up another ball and aimed it at Tyson.

"Stop!" I yelled. "It's me you want!"

The giant grinned. "You wish to die first, young hero?"

I had to do something. Riptide had to be around here somewhere.

Then I spotted my jeans in a smoking heap of clothes right by the giant's feet. If I could only get there…. I knew it was hopeless, but I charged.

The giant laughed. "My lunch approaches." He raised his arm to throw. I braced myself to die. Lilly threw her sword across the room.

The giant's body went rigid. His expression changed from gloating to surprise. Right where his belly button should've been, his T-shirt ripped open and he grew something like a horn-no, not a horn-the glowing tip of a blade. Lilly's blade stuck in his neck about a second later.

He muttered, "Ow," and burst into a cloud of green flame, which I figured was going to make Babycakes pretty upset.

Standing in the smoke was my friend Annabeth. Her face was grimy and scratched. She had a ragged backpack slung over her shoulder, her baseball cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, like she'd just been chased a thousand miles by ghosts.

Matt Sloan, who'd been standing there dumbfounded the whole time, finally came to his senses. He blinked at Annabeth, as if he dimly recognized her from my notebook picture. "That's the girl … That's the girl-"

Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat. "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend."

Lilly sighed. "I'd kill you if I could but strict orders from Chiron..."

The gym was in flames. Kids were still running around screaming. I heard sirens wailing and a garbled voice over the intercom. Through the glass windows of the exit doors, I could see the headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, wrestling with the lock, a crowd of teachers piling up behind him.

"Annabeth …" I stammered. "How did you … how long have you …"

"Pretty much all morning." She sheathed her bronze knife. "I've been trying to find a good time to talk to you, but you were never alone."

"The shadow I saw this morning-that was-" My face felt hot. "Oh my gods, you were looking in my bedroom window?"

"There's no time to explain!" she snapped, though she looked a little red-faced herself. "I just didn't want to-"

"There!" a woman screamed. The doors burst open and the adults came pouring in.

"Lilly, Percy, meet me outside," Annabeth told me. "And him." She pointed to Tyson, who was still sitting dazed against the wall. Annabeth gave him a look of distaste that I didn't quite understand. "You'd better bring him."

"What?"

"No time!" she said. "Hurry!"

She put on her Yankees baseball cap, which was a magic gift from her mom, and instantly vanished.

That left me standing alone in the middle of the burning gymnasium when the headmaster came charging in with half the faculty and a couple of police officers.

"Percy Jackson?" Mr. Bonsai said. "What … how …"

Over by the broken wall, Tyson groaned and stood up from the pile of cinder blocks. "Head hurts."

Matt Sloan was coming around, too. He focused on me with a look of terror. "Percy did it, Mr. Bonsai! He set the whole building on fire. Coach Nunley will tell you! He saw it all!"

Coach Nunley had been dutifully reading his magazine, but just my luck-he chose that moment to look up when Sloan said his name. "Eh? Yeah. Mm-hmm."

"Let's go!" Lilly yelled.

The other adults turned toward me. I knew they would never believe me, even if I could tell them the truth.

I grabbed Riptide out of my ruined jeans, told Tyson, "Come on!" and jumped through the gaping hole in the side of the building.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Here is the fourth chapter! Credits to Rick Riordan. Percy POV.**

******We Hail the Taxi of Eternal Torment **

Annabeth was waiting for us in an alley down Church Street. She pulled Tyson and me off the sidewalk just as a fire truck screamed past, heading for Meriwether Prep.

"Where'd you find _him_?" she demanded, pointing at Tyson.

"He's our friend Annabeth." Lilly said.

Now, under different circumstances, I would've been really happy to see Annabeth. We'd made our peace last summer, despite the fact that her mom was Athena and didn't get along with my dad. I'd missed Annabeth probably more than I wanted to admit.

But I'd just been attacked by cannibal giants, Tyson had saved my life three or four times, and all Annabeth could do was glare at him like _he _was the problem.

"Is he homeless?"

Lilly punched her.

"What does that have to do with anything? He can hear you, you know. Why don't you ask him?"

She looked surprised. "He can talk?"

"I talk," Tyson admitted. "You are pretty."

"Ah! Gross!" Annabeth stepped away from him.

Lilly took a step towards her like she was about to slap her, but I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder before she could do any damage.

"Hey! Put me down!" She yelled. I set her down.

I couldn't believe Annabeth was being so rude. I examined Tyson's hands, which I was sure must've been badly scorched by the flaming dodge balls, but they looked fine—grimy and scarred, with dirty fingernails the size of potato chips—but they always looked like that. "Tyson," I said in disbelief. "Your hands aren't even burned."

"Of course not," Annabeth muttered. "I'm surprised the Laistrygonians had the guts to attack you with him around."

Tyson seemed fascinated by Annabeth's blond hair. He tried to touch it, but she smacked his hand away.

"Annabeth," I said, "what are you talking about? Laistry-what?"

"Laistrygonians. The monsters in the gym. They're a race of giant cannibals who live in the far north. Odysseus ran into them once, but I've never seen them as far south as New York before."

"Laistry—I can't even say that. What would you call them in English?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Canadians," she decided.

"Now come on, we have to get out of here."

"The police'll be after me."

"That's the least of our problems," she said. "Have you been having the dreams?"

"The dreams ... about Grover?"

Her face turned pale. "Grover? No, what about Grover?"

I told her my dream. "Why? What were _you _dreaming about?"

Her eyes looked stormy, like her mind was racing a million miles an hour.

"My mom and Lilly were saying the same thing! But what _kind _of trouble?"

"I don't know exactly. Something's wrong. We have to get there right away. Monsters have been chasing me all the way from Virginia, trying to stop me. Have you had a lot of attacks?"

I shook my head. "None all year ... until today."

"None? But how ..." Her eyes drifted to Tyson. "Oh."

"What do you mean, 'oh'?"

Tyson raised his hand like he was still in class. "Canadians in the gym called Percy something ... Son of the Sea God?"

"Yes Tyson." Lilly said.

Annabeth and I exchanged looks.

I didn't know how I could explain, but I figured Tyson deserved the truth after almost getting killed.

"Big guy," I said, "you ever hear those old stories about the Greek gods? Like Zeus, Poseidon, Athena—"

"Yes," Tyson said.

"Well ... those gods are still alive. They kind of follow Western Civilization around, living in the strongest countries_, _so like now they're in the U.S. And sometimes they have kids with mortals. Kids called half-bloods."

"Yes," Tyson said, like he was still waiting for me to get to the point.

"Uh, well, Annabeth and I are half-bloods," I said. "We're like ... heroes-in-training. And whenever monsters pick up our scent, they attack us. That's what those giants were in the gym. Monsters."

"Yes."

I stared at him. He didn't seem surprised or confused by what I was telling him, which surprised and confused me.

"So ... you believe me?"

Tyson nodded. "But you and Lilly are ... Children of the Sea God?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "Our dad is Poseidon."

Tyson frowned. _Now_ he looked confused. "But then …"

A siren wailed. A police car raced past our alley.

"We don't have time for this," Annabeth said. "We'll talk in the taxi."

"A taxi all the way to camp?" I said. "You know how much money—"

"Trust me."

I hesitated. "What about Tyson?"

I imagined escorting my giant friend into Camp Half-Blood. If he freaked out on a regular playground with regular bullies, how would he act at a training camp for demigods? On the other hand, the cops would be looking for us.

"We can't just leave him," I decided. "He'll be in trouble, too."

"Yeah." Annabeth looked grim. "We definitely need to take him. Now come on."

I didn't like the way she said that, as if Tyson were a big disease we needed to get to the hospital, but I followed her down the alley. Together the four of us sneaked through the side streets of downtown while a huge column of smoke billowed up behind us from my school gymnasium. Lilly growled and I grabbed her shoulders.

"Here." Annabeth stopped us on the corner of Thomas and Trimble. She fished around in her backpack. "I hope I have one left."

She looked even worse than I'd realized at first.

Her chin was cut. Twigs and grass were tangled in her ponytail, as if she'd slept several nights in the open. The slashes on the hems of her jeans looked suspiciously like claw marks.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

All around us, sirens wailed. I figured it wouldn't be long before more cops cruised by, looking for juvenile delinquent gym-bombers. No doubt Matt Sloan had given them a statement by now. He'd probably twisted the story around so that Tyson and I were the bloodthirsty cannibals.

"Found one. Thank the gods." Annabeth pulled out a gold coin that I recognized as a drachma, the currency of Mount Olympus. It had Zeus's likeness stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other.

"Annabeth," I said, "New York taxi drivers won't take that."

"_Stêthi_," she shouted in Ancient Greek. _"Ô hárma diabolês!"_

As usual, the moment she spoke in the language of Olympus, I somehow understood it. She'd said: _Stop, Chariot of Damnation!_

That didn't exactly make me feel real excited about whatever her plan was.

She threw her coin into the street, but instead of clattering on the asphalt, the drachma sank right through and disappeared.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, just where the coin had fallen, the asphalt darkened. It melted into a rectangular pool about the size of a parking space—bubbling red liquid like blood. Then a car erupted from the ooze.

It was a taxi, all right, but unlike every other taxi in New York, it wasn't yellow. It was smoky gray. I mean it looked like it was _woven _out of smoke, like you could walk right through it. There were words printed on the door—some thing like GYAR SSIRES—but my dyslexia made it hard for me to decipher what it said.

The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a mop of grizzled hair covering her eyes, and she spoke in a weird mumbling way, like she'd just had a shot of Novocain.

"Passage? Passage?"

"Three to Camp Half-Blood," Annabeth said. She opened the cab's back door and waved at me to get in, like this was all completely normal.

"Ach!" the old woman screeched. "We don't take _his _kind!"

She pointed a bony finger at Tyson.

What was it? Pick-on-Big-and-Ugly-Kids Day?

"Extra pay," Annabeth promised. "Three more drachma on arrival."

"Done!" the woman screamed.

Reluctantly I got in the cab. Lilly sat next to me. Tyson squeezed in the middle. Annabeth crawled in last.

The interior was also smoky gray, but it felt solid enough. The seat was cracked and lumpy—no different than most taxis. There was no Plexiglas screen separating us from the old lady driving ... Wait a minute. There wasn't just one old lady. There were three, all crammed in the front seat, each with stringy hair covering her eyes, bony hands, and a charcoal-colored sackcloth dress.

The one driving said, "Long Island! Out-of-metro fare bonus! Ha!"

She floored the accelerator, and my head slammed against the backrest. A prerecorded voice came on over the speaker: _Hi, this is Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus, and when I'm out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up!_

I looked down and found a large black chain instead of a seat belt. I decided I wasn't that desperate ... yet.

The cab sped around the corner of West Broadway, and the gray lady sitting in the middle screeched, "Look out! Go left!"

"Well, _if _you'd give me the eye, Tempest, I could _see _that!" the driver complained.

Wait a minute. _Give her the eye?_

I didn't have time to ask questions because the driver swerved to avoid an oncoming _delivery _truck, ran over the curb with a jaw-rattling _thump, _and flew into the next block.

"Wasp!" the third lady said to the driver. "Give me the girl's coin! I want to bite it."

"You bit it last time, Anger!" said the driver, whose name must've been Wasp. "It's my turn!"

"Is not!" yelled the one called Anger.

The middle one, Tempest, screamed, "Red light!"

"Brake!" yelled Anger.

Instead, Wasp floored the accelerator and rode up on the curb, screeching around another corner, and knocking over a newspaper box. She left my stomach somewhere back on Broome Street.

"Excuse me," I said. "But ... can you see?"

"No!" screamed Wasp from behind the wheel.

"No!" screamed Tempest from the middle.

"Of course!" screamed Anger by the shotgun window.

I looked at Annabeth. "They're blind?"

"Not completely," Annabeth said. "They have an eye."

"One eye?"

"Yeah."

"Each?"

"No. One eye total."

Next to me, Tyson groaned and grabbed the seat. "Not feeling so good."

"Oh, man," I said, because I'd seen Tyson get carsick on school field trips and it was _not _something you wanted to be within fifty feet of. "Hang in there, big guy. Anybody got a garbage bag or something?"

The three gray ladies were too busy squabbling to pay me any attention. I looked over at Annabeth, who was hanging on for dear life, and I gave her a _why-did-you-do-this-to-me _look. Lilly just looked board.

"Hey," she said, "Gray Sisters Taxi is the fastest way to camp."

"Then why didn't you take it from Virginia?"

"That's outside their service area," she said, like that should be obvious. "They only serve Greater New York and surrounding communities."

"We've had famous people in this cab!" Anger exclaimed. "Jason! You remember him?"

"Don't remind me!" Wasp wailed. "And we didn't have a cab back then, you old bat. That was three thousand years ago!"

"Give me the tooth!" Anger tried to grab at Wasp's mouth, but Wasp swatted her hand away.

"Only if Tempest gives me the eye!"

"No!" Tempest screeched. "You had it yesterday!"

"But I'm driving, you old hag!"

"Excuses! Turn! That was your turn!"

Wasp swerved hard onto Delancey Street, squishing me between Tyson and the door. She punched the gas and we shot up the Williamsburg Bridge at seventy miles an hour.

The three sisters were fighting for real now, slapping each other as Anger tried to grab at Wasp's face and Wasp tried to grab at Tempest's. With their hair flying and their mouths open, screaming at each other, I realized that none of the sisters had any teeth except for Wasp, who had one mossy yellow incisor. Instead of eyes, they just had closed, sunken eyelids, except for Anger, who had one bloodshot green eye that stared at everything hungrily, as if it couldn't get enough of anything it saw.

Finally Anger, who had the advantage of sight, managed to yank the tooth out of her sister Wasp's mouth. This made Wasp so mad she swerved toward the edge of the Williamsburg Bridge, yelling, "'Ivit back! 'Ivit back!"

Tyson groaned and clutched his stomach.

"Uh, if anybody's interested," I said, "We're going to die!"

"Don't worry," Annabeth told me, sounding pretty worried. "The Gray Sisters know what they're doing. They're really very wise."

"Yeah, we can tell Hades that when we die!" Lilly said.

We were skimming along the edge of a bridge a hundred and thirty feet above the East River.

"Yes, wise!" Anger grinned in the rearview mirror, showing off her newly acquired tooth. "We know things!"

"Every street in Manhattan!" Wasp bragged, still hitting her sister. "The capital of Nepal!"

"The location you seek!" Tempest added.

Immediately her sisters pummeled her from either side, screaming, "Be quiet! Be quiet! He didn't even ask yet!"

"What?" I said. "What location? I'm not seeking any—"

"Nothing!" Tempest said. "You're right, boy. It's nothing!"

"Tell me."

"No!" they all screamed.

"The last time we told, it was horrible!" Tempest said.

"Eye tossed in a lake!" Anger agreed.

"Years to find it again!" Wasp moaned. "And speaking of that—give it back!"

"No!" yelled Anger.

"Eye!" Wasp yelled. "Gimme!"

She whacked her sister Anger on the back. There was a sickening _pop _and something flew out of Anger's face. Anger fumbled for it, trying to catch it, but she only managed to bat it with the back of her hand. The slimy green orb sailed over her shoulder, into the backseat, and straight into my lap.

I jumped so hard, my head hit the ceiling and the eyeball rolled away.

"I can't see!" all three sisters yelled.

"Give me the eye!" Wasp wailed.

"Give her the eye!" Annabeth screamed.

"I don't have it!" I said.

"There, by your foot," Annabeth said. "Don't step on it! Get it!"

"I'm not picking that up!"

The taxi slammed against the guardrail and skidded along with a horrible grinding noise. The whole car shuddered, billowing gray smoke as if it were about to dissolve from the strain.

"Going to be sick!" Tyson warned.

"Annabeth," I yelled, "let Tyson use your backpack!"

"Are you crazy? Get the eye!"

Wasp yanked the wheel, and the taxi swerved away from the rail. We hurtled down the bridge toward Brooklyn, going faster than any human taxi. The Gray Sisters screeched and pummeled each other and cried out for their eye.

At last I steeled my nerves. I ripped off a chunk of my tie-dyed T-shirt, which was already falling apart from all the burn marks, and used it to pick the eyeball off the floor.

"Nice boy!" Anger cried, as if she somehow knew I had her missing peeper. "Give it back!"

"Not until you explain," I told her. "What were you talking about, the location I seek?"

"No time!" Tempest cried. "Accelerating!"

I looked out the window. Sure enough, trees and cars and whole neighborhoods were now zipping by in a gray blur. We were already out of Brooklyn, heading through the middle of Long Island.

"Percy," Annabeth warned, "they can't find our destination without the eye. We'll just keep accelerating until we break into a million pieces."

"First they have to tell me," I said. "Or I'll open the window and throw the eye into oncoming traffic."

"No!" the Gray Sisters wailed. "Too dangerous!"

"I'm rolling down the window."

"Wait!" the Gray Sisters screamed. "30, 31, 75, 12!"

They belted it out like a quarterback calling a play.

"What do you mean?" I said. "That makes no sense!"

"30, 31, 75, 12!" Anger wailed. "That's all we can tell you. Now give us the eye! Almost to camp!"

We were off the highway now, zipping through the countryside of northern Long Island. I could see Half-Blood Hill ahead of us, with its giant pine tree at the crest—Thalia's tree, which contained the life force or a fallen hero.

"Percy!" Annabeth said more urgently. "Give them the eye now!"

I decided not to argue. I threw the eye into Wasp's lap.

The old lady snatched it up, pushed it into her eye socket like somebody putting in a contact lens, and blinked. "Whoa!"

She slammed on the brakes. The taxi spun four or five times in a cloud of smoke and squealed to a halt in the middle of the farm road at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

Tyson let loose a huge belch. "Better now."

"All right," I told the Gray Sisters. "Now tell me what those numbers mean."

"No time!" Annabeth opened her door. "We have to get out _now."_

"Agreed." Lilly said.

I was about to ask why, when I looked up at Half-Blood Hill and understood.

At the crest of the hill was a group of campers. And they were under attack.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns this. I wrote this chapter in Lilly's POV. I'm happy that i've gotten this far. I'm going to tell my mom and see if she can make me feel bad about it. Anyway, here is the new chapter!

**Tyson Plays with Fire**

Mythologically speaking, if there's anything I hate worse than trios of old ladies, it's bulls.

Last summer, Percy fought the Minotaur on top of Half-Blood Hill. This time what I saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls—bronze ones the size of elephants. And even _that _wasn't bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.

As soon as we exited the taxi, the Gray Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer. They didn't even wait for their extra three-drachma payment.

They just left us on the side of the road, Annabeth with nothing but her backpack and knife, Tyson and Percy still in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes, and me with a messed up ponytail, coal smeared below my eyes, and burn holes in my clothes.

"Oh, man," said Annabeth, looking at the battle raging on the hill.

What worried me most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated booties whooped. What worried me was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree.

That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.

One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice—gruff and familiar.

Border patrol? I thought. The camp didn't _have _a border patrol.

"It's Clarisse," Annabeth said. "Come on, we have to help her."

Normally, rushing to Clarisse's aid would not have been high on my "to do" list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time she'd met Percy she tried to introduce his head to a toilet.

Still, she _was _in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horse hair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk.

Clarisse's own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the

other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder.

I took to black pebbles out of my pocket and they turned into my sword and shield. I looked at Percy, and he had his sword out too. "Tyson, stay here. I don't want you taking any more chances." Percy said.

"No!" Annabeth said. "We need him."

Percy stared at her. "He's mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can't—"

"He's not mortal." I said.

"Percy, do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls, made by Hephaestus himself. We can't fight them without Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We'll get burned to a crisp." Annabeth said.

"Medea's _what?" _Percy asked_._

Annabeth rummaged through her backpack and cursed. "I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my night-stand at home. Why didn't I bring it?"

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm _not _going to let Tyson get fried." Percy said.

"Percy—"

"Tyson, stay back." He raised his sword. "I'm going in."

Tyson tried to protest, but Percy and I were already running up the hill toward Clarisse, who was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide—and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.

Unfortunately, Clarisse could only muster six campers. The other four were still running around with their helmets on fire.

Annabeth ran toward them, trying to help. She taunted one of the bulls into chasing her, then turned invisible, completely confusing the monster. The other bull charged Clarisse's line.

Percy and I were halfway up the hill—not close enough to help. Clarisse hadn't even seen us yet.

The bull moved deadly fast for something so big. Its metal hide gleamed in the sun. It had fist-sized rubies for eyes, and horns of polished silver. When it opened its hinged mouth, a column of white-hot flame blasted out.

"Hold the line!" Clarisse ordered her warriors.

Whatever else you could say about Clarisse, she was brave.

She was a big girl with cruel eyes like her father's. She looked like she was born to wear Greek battle armor, but I didn't see how even she could stand against that bull's charge.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the other bull lost interest in finding Annabeth. It turned, wheeling around behind Clarisse on her unprotected side.

"Behind you!" Percy yelled. "Look out!"

He shouldn't have said anything, because all he did was startle her, but I knew he was just trying to help. Bull Number One crashed into her shield, and the phalanx broke. Clarisse went flying backward and landed in a smoldering patch of grass. The bull charged past her, but not before blasting the other heroes with its fiery breath. Their shields melted right off their arms. That's what I like about Stygian Iron, it's indestructible. They dropped their weapons and ran as Bull Number Two closed in on Clarisse for the kill.

P lunged forward and grabbed Clarisse by the straps of her armor. He dragged her out of the way just as Bull Number Two freight-trained past. Percy gave it a good swipe with Riptide and cut a huge gash in its flank, but the monster just creaked and groaned and kept on going. I chased after it but I couldn't catch up to it. I spotted a rock on the ground.

I picked it up.

"Hey stupid!" I yelled and threw the rock.

It bounced harmlessly off of the bulls leg but I got it's attention. It turned around and charged at me. I waited then at the last second I dove underneath it. I stabbed my sword just below its chest and cut it all the way across the stomach. I rolled out from underneath and just in time too, as soon as I did fire erupted from its stomach where I had cut it.

It turned back around and growled at me. This time when it charged I jumped straight up. I jumped about three feet up and grabbed onto its leg. It slammed into me so hard my eyesight went blurry, but I climbed on its shoulder anyway. I'm glad it didn't hit me with its horn or I would've been dead. It kept repeatedly trying to throw me off but I hung on. I raised my sword with both hands and used all my strength to slice its head off.

I jumped off and rolled out of the way just before it fell on top of me.

Annabeth shouted orders to the other heroes, telling them to spread out and keep the bulls distracted.

I looked around.

Bull Number One charged straight toward Percy. No way I could get there in time.

Annabeth shouted: "Tyson, help him!"

Somewhere near, toward the crest of the hill, Tyson wailed, "Can't—get—through!"

"I, Annabeth Chase, give you permission to enter camp!"

Thunder shook the hillside. Suddenly Tyson was there, barreling toward Percy, yelling:

"Percy needs help!"

He dove between Percy and the bull just as it unleashed a nuclear firestorm.

"Tyson!" He yelled.

The blast swirled around him like a red tornado. I could only see the black silhouette of his body.

When the fire died, Tyson was still standing there, completely unharmed. Not even his grungy clothes were scorched. The bull must've been surprised, because before it could unleash a second blast, Tyson balled his fists and slammed them into the bull's face. "BAD COW!"

His fists made a crater where the bronze bull's snout used to be. Two small columns of flame shot out of its ears. Tyson hit it again, and the bronze crumpled under his hands like aluminum foil. The bull's face now looked like a sock puppet pulled inside out.

"Down!" Tyson yelled.

The bull staggered and fell on its back. Its legs moved feebly in the air, steam coming out of its ruined head in odd places.

Annabeth and I ran over to check on Percy.

I gave Percy some Olympian nectar to drink from my canteen.

"The other bull?" He asked.

"I took care of it." I said.

Clarisse pulled off her helmet and marched toward us. A strand of her stringy brown hair was smoldering, but she didn't seem to notice. "You—ruin—everything!" she yelled at Percy. "I had it under control!"

"Obviously you didn't!" I yelled.

Annabeth grumbled, "Good to see you too, Clarisse."

"Argh!" Clarisse screamed. "Don't ever, EVER try saving me again!"

"Fine we'll let you die next time." I said.

"Clarisse," Annabeth said, "you've got wounded campers."

That sobered her up. Even Clarisse cared about the soldiers under her command.

"I'll be back," she growled, then trudged off to assess the damage.

Percy stared at Tyson. "You didn't die."

Tyson looked down like he was embarrassed. "I am sorry. Came to help. Disobeyed you."

"My fault," Annabeth said. "I had no choice. I had to let Tyson cross the boundary line to save you. Otherwise, you would've died."

_"Let _him cross the boundary line?'" Percy asked. "But—"

"Percy," she said, "have you ever looked at Tyson closely? I mean ... in the face. Ignore the Mist, and _really _look at him."

The Mist makes humans see only what their brains can process. I had managed to look past it, and it surprised me that Percy hadn't noticed that Tyson was a cyclops.

"Tyson," He stammered. "You're a ..."

"Cyclops," Annabeth offered. "A baby, by the looks of him. Probably why he couldn't get past the boundary line as easily as the bulls. Tyson's one of the homeless orphans."

"One of the what?"

"They're in almost all the big cities," Annabeth said distastefully. "They're ... _mistakes, _Percy.

Children of nature spirits and gods ... Well, one god in particular, usually ... and they don't always come out right. No one wants them. They get tossed aside. They grow up wild on the streets. I don't know how this one found you, but he obviously likes you. We should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do."

"Um... actually I talked to Dionysus today and well, I've got a lot of bad news. Starting with Chiron." I said.

"But the fire. How—" Percy interrupted.

"He's a Cyclops." Annabeth paused.

"They work the forges of the gods. They _have _to be immune to fire. That's what I was trying to tell you."

The whole side of the hill was burning. Wounded heroes needed attention. And there were still two banged-up bronze bulls to dispose of, which I didn't figure would fit in our normal recycling bins.

Clarisse came back over and wiped the soot off her forehead. "Percy, if you can stand, get up. We need to carry the wounded back to the Big House, let Tantalus know what's happened."

"Tantalus?" He asked.

"The activities director," Clarisse said impatiently.

"Chiron is the activities director. And where's Argus? He's head of security. He should be here."

I just stared at the ground.

Clarisse made a sour face. "Argus got fired. You and Annabeth have been gone too long. Lilly knows what I'm talking about. Things are changing."

"But Chiron ... He's trained kids to fight monsters for over three thousand years. He can't just be _gone. _What happened?"

"_That _happened," Clarisse snapped.

She pointed to Thalia's tree.

Every camper knew the story behind the tree. Six years ago, Grover, Annabeth, and two other demigods named Thalia and Luke had come to Camp Half-Blood chased by an army of monsters. When they got cornered on top of this hill, Thalia, a daughter of Zeus, had made her last stand here to give her friends time to reach safety. As she was dying, her father, Zeus, took pity on her and changed her into a pine tree. Her spirit had reinforced the magic borders of the camp, protecting it from monsters. The pine had been here ever since, strong and healthy.

But now, its needles were yellow. A huge pile of dead ones littered the base of the tree. In the center of the trunk, three feet from the ground, was a puncture mark the size of a bullet hole, oozing green sap.

Someone had poisoned it.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own this. Rick Riordan does. The 'foot up your ass' jokes are from the seventy's show so credits to them!

**I Get A New Cabin Mate**

Ever come home and find your room messed up? Like some helpful person (hi, Mom) has tried to "clean" it and suddenly you can't find anything? And even if nothing is missing, you get the creepy feeling that some one's been looking through your private stuff and dusting everything with lemon furniture polish? That's kind of the way I felt about Camp-Half Blood again.

On the surface, things didn't look all that different. The big house was still there with it's blue gabled roof and wrap around porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley - the amphitheater, the combat arena, the dining pavilion over looking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins- a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.

But there was an air of danger now. You could tell something was wrong.

Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counselors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.

Somebody had messed with my favorite place in the world, and I was not ... well, a happy camper.

As we made our way to the Big House, I recognized a lot of kids from last summer. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back." Some did double takes when they saw Tyson, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties—running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like a military school. And believe me, I know. I've been kicked out of a couple.

None of that mattered to Tyson. He was absolutely fascinated by everything he saw. "Whasthat!" he gasped.

"The stables for pegasi," I said. "The winged horses."

"Whasthat!"

"Um ... those are the toilets."

"Whasthat!"

"The cabins for the campers. If they don't know who your Olympian parent is, they put you in the Hermes cabin—

that brown one over there—until you're determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mom's group."

He looked at me in awe. "You ... have a _cabin?"_

"Number three." I pointed to a low gray building made of sea stone.

"You live with friends in the cabin?"

"No. No, just me and Lilly." I didn't feel like explaining. The embarrassing truth: I was the only one who stayed in that cabin because I wasn't supposed to be alive. Lilly nodded.

The "Big Three" gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—had made a pact after World War II not to have any more children with mortals. We were more powerful than regular half-bloods. We were too unpredictable. When we got mad we tended to cause problems ... like World War II, for instance. The "Big Three" pact had only been broken twice—once when Zeus sired Thalia, once when Poseidon sired me. Neither of us should've been born.

Thalia had gotten herself turned into a pine tree when she was twelve. Me ... well, I was doing my best not to follow her example.

I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into if I were ever on the verge of death— plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp.

When we got to the Big House, we found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favorite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. I guess I should mention—Chiron is a centaur. From the waist up he looks like a regular middle-aged guy with curly brown hair and a scraggly beard. From the waist down, he's a white stallion. He can pass for human by compacting his lower half into a magic wheelchair.

In fact, he'd passed himself off as my Latin teacher during my sixth-grade year. But most of the time, if the ceilings are high enough, he prefers hanging out in full centaur form.

As soon as we saw him, Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture.

"Tyson!" Lilly said.

Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

Annabeth ran up and hugged him and so did Lilly. "Chiron, what's happening? You're not ... leaving?" Her voice was shaky. Chiron was like a second father to her and Lilly.

Chiron ruffled their hair and gave them a kindly smile.

"Hello, children. And Percy, my goodness. You've grown over the year!"

I swallowed. "Clarisse said you were ... you were ..."

"Fired." Chiron's eyes glinted with dark humor. "Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr. D had to punish someone."

Lilly muttered curse words.

"Don't talk like that." Chiron said.

"Besides himself, you mean," I growled. Just the thought of the camp director, Mr. D, made me angry.

"But this is crazy!" Annabeth cried. "Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!"

"Nevertheless," Chiron sighed, "some in Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances."

"That's stupid! I'll go to Olympus myself and stick my foot so far up their asses their nose's will bleed!" Lilly said.

"Be nice." Chiron said.

"What circumstances?" I asked.

Chiron's face darkened. He stuffed a Latin-English dictionary into his saddlebag while the Frank Sinatra music oozed from his boom box.

Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?"

Chiron sniffed. "My dear young Cyclops! I am a _centaur._"

"Chiron," I said. "What about the tree? What happened?"

He shook his head sadly. "The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Percy. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus."

"Then we know who's responsible. Kro—"

"Do not invoke the titan lord's name, Percy. Especially not here, not now."

"But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This _has _to be his idea. He'd get Luke to do it, that traitor."

"Perhaps," Chiron said. "But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless ..."

"Unless what?" Annabeth asked.

"No," Chiron said. "A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago."

"What is it? I'll go find it! I can leave right now!" Lilly said.

Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the stop button on his boom box. Then he turned and rested his hand on Lilly's shoulder, looking her straight in the eyes. "Lilly, you must promise me that you will _not _act rashly. I told your mother I did not want you or Percy to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, _stay _here. Do not leave."

"Chiron! Whatever it is I have to find it! I can't let you get fired and I can't let the boarders fail! The entire camp will be -" Lilly said.

"Overrun by monsters," Chiron said. "Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the titan lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life."

"I don't care! Chiron I have to do this!"

I could tell Lilly was going to go whether Chiron wanted her to or not. And well... I wasn't going to let her go alone.

Annabeth was trying hard not to cry.

Chiron brushed a tear from her cheek. "Stay with Percy and Lilly, child," he told her. "Keep them safe. The prophecy—remember it!"

"I—I will."

"Um ..." I said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about?"

Nobody answered.

"Right," I muttered. "Just checking."

"Chiron ..." Annabeth said. "You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp—"

"Swear you will do your best to keep Percy and Lilly from danger," he insisted. "Swear upon the River Styx."

"I—I swear it upon the River Styx," Annabeth said.

Thunder rumbled outside.

"Very well," Chiron said. He seemed to relax just a little. "Perhaps my name will be cleared and I shall return."

"You're name will be cleared." Lilly promised.

" Until then," Chiron continued. "I'll go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It's possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved ... one way or another."

Annabeth stifled a sob. Chiron patted her shoulder awkwardly. "There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr. D and the new activities director. We must hope ... well, perhaps they won't destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear."

"Who is this Tantalus guy, anyway?" I demanded."Where does he get off taking your job?"

A conch horn blew across the valley. I hadn't realized how late it was. It was time for the campers to assemble for dinner.

"Go," Chiron said. "You will meet him at the pavilion. I will contact your mother, Percy, and let her know you're safe. No doubt she'll be worried by now. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger. Do not think for a moment that the titan lord has forgotten you!"

Lilly hugged him and with that, he clopped out of the apartment and down the hall, Tyson calling after him, "Pony! Don't go!"

I realized I'd forgotten to tell Chiron about my dream of Grover. Now it was too late. The best teacher I'd ever had was gone, maybe for good.

Tyson started bawling almost as bad as Annabeth and Lilly. I tried to tell them that things would be okay, but I didn't believe it.

The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins. We stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in. Annabeth was still pretty shaken up, but she promised she'd talk to us later. Then she went off to join her siblings from the Athena cabin—a dozen boys and girls with blond hair and gray eyes like hers. Annabeth"s cabin always went first even though Lilly had been there the longest. You could tell that by looking at her camp necklace—one bead for every summer, and Lilly had thirteen. Over twice as many as Annabeth. When it came to battles though Lilly was always the leader.

Next came Clarisse, leading the Ares cabin.

After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus cabin—six guys led by Charles Beckendorf, a big fifteen-year-old African American kid.

He had hands the size of catchers' mitts and a face that was hard and squinty from looking into a blacksmiths forge all day. He was nice enough once you got to know him, but no one ever called him Charlie or Chuck or Charles. Most just called him Beckendorf. Rumor was he could make anything. Give him a chunk of metal and he could create a razor-sharp sword or a robotic warrior or a singing birdbath for your grandmother's garden. Whatever you wanted.

The other cabins filed in: Demeter, Apollo, Aphrodite, Dionysus. Naiads came up from the canoe lake.

Dryads melted out of the trees. From the meadow came a dozen satyrs, who reminded me painfully of Grover.

I'd always had a soft spot for the satyrs. When they were at camp, they had to do all kinds of odd jobs for Mr. D, the director, but their most important work was out in the real world. They were the camp's seekers. They went undercover into schools all over the world, looking for potential half-bloods and escorting them back to camp. That's how I'd met Grover. He had been the first one to recognize I was a demigod.

After the satyrs filed in to dinner, the Hermes cabin brought up the rear.

They were always the biggest cabin. Last summer, it had been led by Luke, the guy who'd fought with Thalia and Annabeth on top of Half-Blood Hill. For a while, before Poseidon had claimed me, I'd lodged in the Hermes cabin. Luke had befriended me ... and then he'd tried to kill me.

Now the Hermes cabin was led by Travis and Connor Stoll.

They weren't twins, but they looked so much alike it didn't matter. I could never remember which one was older. Lilly managed but I had no idea how.

They were both tall and skinny, with mops of brown hair that hung in their eyes. They wore orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts untucked over baggy shorts, and they had those elfish features all Hermes's kids had: upturned eyebrows, sarcastic smiles, a gleam in their eyes whenever they looked at you—like they were about to drop a firecracker down your shirt.

I'd always thought it was funny that the god of thieves would have kids with the last name "Stoll," but the only time I mentioned it to Travis and Connor, they both stared at me blankly like they didn't get the joke.

As soon as the last campers had filed in, Liily and I led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. "Who invited _that?_" somebody at the Apollo table murmured.

Lilly and I glared in their direction, but I couldn't figure out who'd spoken.

From the head table a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Peter and Leah Johnson. My millennium is complete."

I gritted my teeth. _"Percy Jackson _... sir."

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: _Whatever."_

Lilly didn't even try to correct him.

He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks. With his pudgy belly and his blotchy red face, he looked like a Las Vegas tourist who'd stayed up too late in the casinos. Behind him, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr. D one at a time.

Mr. D's real name is Dionysus. The god of wine. Zeus appointed him director of Camp Half-Blood to dry out for a hundred years—a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph.

Next to him, where Chiron usually sat (or stood, in centaur form), was someone I'd never seen before—a pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jump suit. The number over his pocket read 0001.

He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails, and badly cut gray hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker. He stared at me; his eyes made me nervous. He looked ... fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry all at the same time.

"This boy," Dionysus told him, "you need to watch. Poseidon's child, you know. And you better keep an eye on Leah, she has a tendency to wander. Isn't that right?" He looked around but Lilly wasn't there.

"Uh, Leah?"

"Yeah?" Lilly called. She was leaning up against a tree about 5 yards away. Mr.D waved her over and she walked back over.

"I am Tantalus," the prisoner said, smiling coldly. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Perseus and Lilly Jackson, I _do _expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."

"Trouble?" I demanded.

Dionysus snapped his fingers. A newspaper appeared on the table—the front page of today's _New York Post, _There was my yearbook picture from Meriwether Prep. It was hard for me to make out the headline, but I had a pretty good guess what it said.

Something like: _Thirteen-Year-Old Lunatic Torches Gymnasium._

"Yes, trouble," Tantalus said with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."

I was too mad to speak. Like it was _my _fault the gods had almost gotten into a civil war?

A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecue in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said, "Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."

The glass filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot.

"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps now it will work."

Lilly raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"You seem happy."

Dionysus rolled his eyes.

Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them. He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.

"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.

"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps a few more days. Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."

"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"

"You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," I said. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

Tantalus sneered at me. "A real scholar, aren't you, boy?"

"You must've done something really horrible when you were alive," I said, mildly impressed. "What was it?"

Tantalus's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the satyrs were shaking their heads vigorously, trying to warn me.

"I'll be watching you, Percy Jackson," Tantalus said. "I don't want any problems at my camp."

"_Your _camp has problems already ... sir."

"And it's not your camp." Lilly reminded him.

"Oh, go sit down, Johnson," Dionysus sighed. "I believe that table over there is yours." He said pointing to my table. He was looking at Lilly and I swear he was trying to warn her to get out of doge.

"I don't think so. I'm keeping my eye on him." Lilly said. She stood behind Tantalus.

I said, "Come on, Tyson."

"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."

Lilly pinched his ear.

"Ow!" He yelled.

Tyson looked at me with fear in his one big eye, but I knew I couldn't disobey a direct order from the camp directors. Not openly, anyway.

"I'll be right over here, big guy," I promised. "Don't worry. We'll find you a good place to sleep tonight."

Tyson nodded. "I believe you. You are my friend."

Which made me feel a whole lot guiltier.

I trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench. A wood nymph brought me a plate of Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza, but I wasn't hungry. I'd been almost killed twice today. I'd managed to end my school year with a complete disaster. Camp Half-Blood was in serious trouble and Chiron had told me not to do anything about it.

I didn't feel very thankful, but I took my dinner, as was customary, up to the bronze brazier and scraped part of it into the flames.

"Poseidon," I murmured, "accept my offering."

_And send me some help while you're at it, _I prayed silently. _Please._

The smoke from the burning pizza changed into some thing fragrant—the smell of a clean sea breeze with wild-flowers mixed in—but I had no idea if that meant my father was really listening.

I went back to my seat. I didn't think things could get much worse. But then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get our attention for announcements.

"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told." As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within six inches.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

Lilly whacked him again.

Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some halfhearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.

"And now some changes!" Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!"

Murmuring broke out at all the tables—excitement, fear, disbelief.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," someone at the Apollo table called.

"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"

An explosion of excited conversation—no KP for a whole month? No stable cleaning?

Was he serious?

Then the last person I expected to object did so.

"But, sir!" Clarisse said. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop every thing to ready our chariots—"

Tantalus grinned. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy our selves, yes?"

"But the tree—"

"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabin mates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson, Lilly Jackson, and Annabeth Chase have seen fit, for some reason, to bring _this _here." Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.

Lilly punched him.

"Watch your mouth dumbass!"

"Why?" He asked.

"Because your ass says vacancy and my foot's looking for a room."

"Now, of course," he said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

Silence at the Hermes table. Travis and Connor Stoll developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. I couldn't blame them. The Hermes cabin was always full to bursting. There was no way they could take in a six-foot-three Cyclops.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kenneled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped.

Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the brilliant green light that was about to change my life—a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head.

With a sickening twist in my stomach, I remembered what Annabeth had said about Cyclopes, _They're the children of nature spirits and gods ... Well, one god in particular, usually …_

Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident—the same symbol that had appeared above me the day Poseidon had claimed me as his son.

There was a moment of awed silence.

Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. When I'd been claimed by Poseidon last summer, everyone had reverently knelt.

But now, they followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter. "Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

Everybody laughed except Annabeth, Lilly, and a few of my other friends.

Tyson didn't seem to notice. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He was too innocent to understand how much they were making fun of him, how cruel people were.

But I got it.

I had a new cabin mate. I had a monster for a half-brother.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own. Thank you to all of you that have reviewed! All none of you! Purdue University is also mentioned but I don't think I have to tell you that I don't own it.

**Demon Pigeons Attack**

Later that night Lilly and I snuck out of camp.

"So how do you know where Athena's house is?" I asked.

"Well I've been there before." She said. I just kept following.

After about an hour we finally stopped. There was a gray house in front of us. There was an olive tree by the door with several owls in it.

Lilly walked up to the door and knocked on it. No one answered so Lilly knocked again. A couple seconds later Athena opened the door.

She was wearing red pajama pants and a Purdue University t-shirt.

"What ith it?" She asked. "It'th two in the morning!I was trying to thleep and ... hold on one thecond." She took the grind guard out of her mouth.

"What in the name of Hades are you guys doing here?" She asked.

Lilly told her about the camp boarder's and the bull's and well... everything else.

"Chiron mentioned something that might cure the tree... but he didn't tell us what." Lilly finished.

"Do you have any idea what it could be?" I asked.

"I have _several_ ideas of what it could be. Come on. " She went inside and Lilly and I followed.

When we walked in there were bookshelves full of books all the way to the ceiling. There were papers scattered all over the place. Most of them had battle plans written on them. The others had drawings of cats.

"Sorry it's such a mess." Athena said.

"It's always like this." Lilly commented.

Athena glared then turned around and started going through her books. I suspected that finding one particular book in a million would have been practically impossible but after about five minutes Athena pull a book off the shelf. It had a golden cover and was about six inches thick.

Athena handed it too Lilly.

"What is that? A dictionary?" I asked.

"No. It's a book about every magic item that was ever created. The answer should be in there somewhere." Athena told me.

"Well that narrows it down." I grumbled. Athena actually smiled.

"In spite of it's size I'm sure you'll find the answer."

"We should get going, thanks a ton Athena." Lilly said.

"No problem."

We left, and read it until the sun rose.

The next few days were torture, just like Tantalus wanted.

First there was Tyson moving into the Poseidon cabin, giggling to himself every fifteen seconds and saying, "Percy is my brother?" like he'd just won the lottery.

"Aw, Tyson," I'd say. "It's not that simple."

But there was no explaining it to him. He was in heaven. And me ... as much as I liked the big guy, I couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Ashamed. There, I said it. Lilly didn't seem to care though.

My father, the all-powerful Poseidon, had gotten moony-eyed for some nature spirit, and Tyson had been the result. I mean, I'd read the myths about Cyclopes. I even remembered that they were often Poseidon's children. But I'd never really processed that this made them my ... family. Until I had Tyson living with me in the next bunk.

And then there were the comments from the other campers. Suddenly, I wasn't Percy Jackson, the cool guy who'd retrieved Zeus's lightning bolt last summer. Now I was Percy Jackson, the poor schmuck with the ugly monster for a brother.

"He's not my _real _brother!" I protested whenever Tyson wasn't around. "He's more like a half-brother on the monstrous side of the family.

Like ... a half-brother twice removed, or something."

Of course when I said 'monstrous side.' Lilly told me to stop insulting Dad.

Nobody bought it anyway.

I admit—I was angry at my dad. I felt like being his son was now a joke.

Annabeth tried to make me feel better. She suggested we team up for the chariot race to take our minds off our problems. She tried to get Lilly to join us but Lilly was to busy reading that book Athena had given us but still wasn't sure what Chiron had been talking about. Annabeth and I wanted to help don't get me wrong—we both hated Tantalus and we were worried sick about camp—but we didn't know what to do about it. Until we could come up with some brilliant plan to save Thalia's tree, we figured we might as well go along with the races. After all, Annabeth's mom, Athena, had invented the chariot, and my dad had created horses. Together we would _own _that track.

One morning Annabeth and I were sitting by the canoe lake sketching chariot designs when some jokers from Aphrodite's cabin walked by and asked me if I needed to borrow some eyeliner for my eye ... "Oh sorry, _eyes."_

As they walked away laughing, Annabeth grumbled, "Just ignore them, Percy. It isn't your fault you have a monster for a brother."

"He's _not _my brother!" I snapped. "And he's not a monster, either!"

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Hey, don't get mad at me! And technically, he _is _a monster."

"Well _you _gave him permission to enter the camp."

"Because it was the only way to save your life! I mean ... I'm sorry, Percy, I didn't expect Poseidon to _claim _him. Cyclopes are the most deceitful, treacherous—"

"He is not! What have you got against Cyclopes, any-way?"

Annabeth's ears turned pink. I got the feeling there was something she wasn't telling me—something bad.

"Just forget it," she said. "Now, the axle for this chariot—"

"You're treating him like he's this horrible thing," I said. "He saved my life."

Annabeth threw down her pencil and stood. "Then maybe you should design a chariot with _him._"

"Maybe I should."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

She stormed off and left me feeling even worse than before.

The next couple of days, I tried to keep my mind off my problems.

Silena Beauregard, one of the nicer girls from Aphrodite's cabin,

gave me my first riding lesson on a pegasus. She explained that there was only one immortal winged horse named Pegasus, who still wandered free somewhere in the skies, but over the eons he'd sired a lot of children, none quite so fast or heroic, but all named after the first and greatest.

Being the son of the sea god, I never liked going into the air. My dad had this rivalry with Zeus, so I tried to stay out of the lord of the sky's domain as much as possible. But riding a winged horse felt different. It didn't make me nearly as nervous as being in an airplane. Maybe that was because my dad had created horses out of sea foam, so the pegasi were sort of ... neutral territory. I could understand their thoughts. I wasn't surprised when my pegasus went galloping over the treetops or chased a flock of seagulls into a cloud.

The problem was that Tyson wanted to ride the "chicken ponies,"

too, but the pegasi got skittish whenever he approached. I told them telepathically that Tyson wouldn't hurt them, but they didn't seem to believe me. That made Tyson cry.

The only person at camp besides Lilly who had _no _problem with Tyson was Beckendorf from the Hephaestus cabin. The blacksmith god had always worked with Cyclopes in his forges, so Beckendorf took Tyson down to the armory to teach him metalworking. He said he'd have Tyson crafting magic items like a master in no time.

After lunch, I worked out in the arena with Apollo's cabin. Swordplay had always been my strength. People said I was better at it than any camper in the last hundred years, except maybe Lilly.

I thrashed the Apollo guys easily. I should've been testing myself against the Ares and Athena cabins, since they had the best sword fighters, but I didn't get along with Clarisse and her siblings, and after my argument with Annabeth, I just didn't want to see her. Lilly let me test with her and I actually lasted a few minutes. No Ares kid or Athena kid could do that.

I went to archery class, even though I was terrible at it, and it wasn't the same without Chiron teaching. In arts and crafts, I started a marble bust of Poseidon, but it started looking like Sylvester Stallone, so I ditched it. I scaled the climbing wall in full lava-and-earthquake mode. And in the evenings, I did border patrol. Even though Tantalus had insisted we forget trying to protect the camp, some of the campers had quietly kept it up, working out a schedule during our free times.

I sat at the top of Half-Blood Hill and watched the dryads come and go, singing to the dying pine tree. Satyrs brought their reed pipes and played nature magic songs, and for a while the pine needles seemed to get fuller. The flowers on the hill smelled a little sweeter and the grass looked greener. But as soon as the music stopped, the sickness crept back into the air. The whole hill seemed to be infected, dying from the poison that had sunk into the tree's roots. The longer I sat there, the angrier I got.

Luke had done this. I remembered his sly smile, the dragon-claw scar across his face. He'd pretended to be my friend, and the whole time he'd been Kronos's number-one servant.

At night, I had more dreams of Grover. Sometimes, I just heard snatches of his voice. Once, I heard him say: _It's here. _Another time: _He likes sheep._

I thought about telling Annabeth about my dreams, but I would've felt stupid. I mean, _He likes sheep? _She would've thought I was crazy. I told Lilly and Athena seeing as Athena was there trying to come up with a plan for Kronos. Athena looked at me like I was nuts. I was sure Lilly was going to make some sarcastic comment but instead her eyes widened. She grabbed the book Athena had given us and started to flip through the pages.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

Instead of answering she flipped a few more pages then said,

"Aha! I've got it!"

"Got what?" Athena asked.

"The golden fleece."

"How did you get that from 'he likes sheep'?" She asked.

"The fleece is guarded by Polyphemus in the Sea of Monsters, also known as the Bermuda triangle. Polyphemus used the fleece to enrich his island. To help guard it, he uses carnivorous sheep. Now that I think about it the fleece has a powerful nature magic that could be confused with Pan. That... that could be where Grover is."

"I'll deny that I ever said this, but your one smart cookie. But how do you plan on getting it? The fleece is heavily guarded. You said so yourself." Athena said.

Lilly raised an eyebrow.

"We'll just have to fight for it then."

"You can't be serious."

"Oh but I am." Lilly said.

Athena left after a lot of protesting and I got the feeling I might not see her for a while.

The night before the race, Tyson and I finished our chariot. It was wicked cool. Tyson had made the metal parts in the armory's forges. I'd sanded the wood and put the carriage together.

It was blue and white, with wave designs on the sides and a trident painted on the front. After all that work, it seemed only fair that Tyson would ride shotgun with me, though I knew the horses wouldn't like it, and Tyson's extra weight would slow us down.

As we were turning in for bed, Tyson said, "You are mad?"

I realized I'd been scowling.

"Nah. I'm not mad."

He lay down in his bunk and was quiet in the dark. His body was way too long for his bed. When he pulled up the covers, his feet stuck out the bottom. "I am a monster."

"Don't say that."

"It is okay. I will be a _good _monster. Then you will not have to be mad."

I didn't know what to say. I stared at the ceiling and felt like I was dying slowly, right along with Thalia's tree.

"It's just... I never had a half-brother before." I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "It's really different for me. And I'm worried about the camp. And another friend of mine, Grover ... he might be in trouble. I keep feeling like I should be doing something to help, but I don't know what."

Tyson said nothing.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "It's not your fault. I'm mad at Poseidon. I feel like he's trying to embarrass me, like he's trying to compare us or something, and I don't understand why."

I heard a deep rumbling sound. Tyson was snoring.

I sighed. "Good night, big guy."

And I closed my eyes, too.

In my dream, Grover was wearing a wedding dress.

It didn't fit him very well. The gown was too long and the hem was caked with dried mud. The neckline kept falling off his shoulders. A tattered veil covered his face.

He was standing in a dank cave, lit only by torches. There was a cot in one corner and an old-fashioned loom in the other, a length of white cloth half woven on the frame. And he was staring right at me, like I was a TV program he'd been waiting for. "Thank the gods!" he yelped. "Can you hear me?"

My dream-self was slow to respond.

I was still looking around, taking in the stalactite ceiling, the stench of sheep and goats, the growling and grumbling and bleating sounds that seemed to echo from behind a refrigerator-sized boulder, which was blocking the room's only exit, as if there were a much larger cavern beyond it.

"Percy?" Grover said. "Please, I don't have the strength to project any better. You _have _to hear me!"

"I hear you," I said. "Grover, what's going on?"

From behind the boulder, a monstrous voice yelled, "Honeypie! Are you done yet?"

Grover flinched. He called out in falsetto, "Not quite, dearest! A few more days!"

"Bah! Hasn't it been two weeks yet?"

"N-no, dearest. Just five days. That leaves twelve more to go."

The monster was silent, maybe trying to do the math. He must've been worse at arithmetic than I was, because he said, "All right, but hurry! I want to SEEEEE under that veil, heh-heh-heh."

Grover turned back to me. "You have to help me! No time! I'm stuck in this cave. On an island in the sea."

"Are you at the Sea of monsters?"

"Yes! It's a trap!" Grover said. "It's the reason no satyr has ever returned from this quest. He's a shepherd, Percy! And he _has _it. Its nature magic is _so _powerful it smells just like the great god Pan! The satyrs come here thinking they've found Pan, and they get trapped and eaten by Polyphemus!"

"That's what Lilly said."

"I almost got away. I made it all the way to St. Augustine."

"But he followed you," I said, remembering my first dream. "And trapped you in a bridal boutique."

"That's right," Grover said. "My first empathy link must've worked then. Look, this bridal dress is the only thing keeping me alive. He thinks I smell good, but I told him it was just goat-scented perfume.

Thank goodness he can't see very well. His eye is still half blind from the last time somebody poked it out.

But soon he'll realize what I am. He's only giving me two weeks to finish the bridal train, and he's getting impatient!"

"Wait a minute. This Cyclops thinks you're—"

"Yes!" Grover wailed. "He thinks I'm a lady Cyclops and he wants to marry me!"

Under different circumstances, I might've busted out laughing, but Grover's voice was deadly serious. He was shaking with fear.

"I'll come rescue you," I promised.

" And look, Percy ... urn, I'm really sorry about this, but this empathy link ... well, I had no choice. Our emotions are connected now. If I die ..."

"Don't tell me, I'll die too."

"Oh, well, perhaps not. You might live for years in a vegetative state. But, uh, it would be a lot better if you got me out of here."

"Honeypie!" the monster bellowed. "Dinnertime! Yummy yummy sheep meat!"

Grover whimpered. "I have to go. Hurry!"

But Grover's voice was already growing fainter. "Sweet dreams. Don't let me die!"

The dream faded and I woke with a start. It was early morning. Tyson and Lilly were staring down at me, their eyes full of concern.

"Are you okay?" Tyson asked.

His voice sent a chill down my back, because he sounded almost exactly like the monster I'd heard in my dream.

The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees—fat gray-and-white pigeons,

except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded me of submarine radar.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus's cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes.

There were rows of stone steps for the spectators— Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating. Mr. D didn't show. He never got up before ten o'clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate eclair across the judge's table.

"You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled at us like we were all naughty children. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron—even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. I had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.

The Ares chariot was blood red, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons.

Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys.

Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.

Hermes's chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years.

It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers, and I shuddered to think what dirty tricks they'd schemed up.

That left two chariots: one driven by Annabeth, and the other by me.

Before the race began, I tried to approach Annabeth and tell her about my dream.

She perked up when I mentioned Grover, but when I told her what Lilly and Grover had said, she didn't believe me.

"It's true!" I argued.

"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

"We'll talk later," Annabeth told me, _"after _I win."

As I was walking back to my own chariot, I noticed how many more pigeons were in the trees now—screeching like crazy, making the whole forest rustle. Nobody else seemed to be paying them much attention, but they made me nervous.

Their beaks glinted strangely. Their eyes seemed shinier than regular birds.

Tyson was having trouble getting our horses under control. I had to talk to them a long time before they would settle down.

_He's a monster, lord! _they complained to me.

_He's a son of Poseidon, _I told them. _Just like ... well, just like me._

_No! _they insisted. _Monster! Horse-eater! Not trusted!_

_I'll give you sugar cubes at the end of the race, _I said.

_Sugar cubes?_

_Very big sugar cubes. And apples. Did I mention the apples?_

Finally they agreed to let me harness them.

Now, if you've never seen a Greek chariot, it's built for speed, not safety or comfort. It's basically a wooden basket, open at the back, mounted on an axle between two wheels. The driver stands up the whole time, and you can feel every bump in the road.

The carriage is made of such light _wood _that if you wipe out making the hairpin turns at either end of the track, you'll probably tip over and crush both the chariot and yourself. It's an even better rush than skate boarding.

I took the reins and maneuvered the chariot to the starting line. I gave Tyson a ten-foot pole and told him that his job was to push the other chariots away if they got too close, and to deflect anything they might try to throw at us.

"No hitting ponies with the stick," he insisted.

"No," I agreed. "Or people, either, if you can help it. We're going to run a clean race. Just keep the distractions away and let me concentrate on driving."

"We will win.'" He beamed.

We are _so _going to lose,

I thought to myself, but I _h__ad _to try. I wanted to show the others ... well, I wasn't sure what, exactly. That Tyson wasn't such a bad guy? That I wasn't ashamed of being seen with him in public? Maybe that they hadn't hurt me with all their jokes and name-calling?

As the chariots lined up, more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly the campers in the stands were starting to take notice, glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"

He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered.

Almost immediately there was a loud nasty _crack! _I looked back in time to see the Apollo chariot flip over. The Hermes chariot had rammed into it—maybe by mistake, maybe not.

The riders were thrown free, but their panicked horses dragged the golden chariot diagonally across the track. The Hermes team, Travis and Connor Stoll, were laughing at their good luck, but not for long. The Apollo horses crashed into theirs, and the Hermes chariot flipped too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust.

Two chariots down in the first twenty feet. I loved this sport.

I turned my attention back to the front. We were making good time, pulling ahead of Ares, but Annabeth's chariot was way ahead of us.

She was already making her turn around the first post, her javelin man grinning and waving at us, shouting: "See ya!"

The Hephaestus chariot was starting to gain on us, too.

Beckendorf pressed a button, and a panel slid open on the side of his chariot.

"Sorry, Percy!" he yelled. Three sets of balls and chains shot straight toward our wheels. They would've wrecked us completely if Tyson hadn't whacked them aside with a quick swipe of his pole. He gave the Hephaestus chariot a good shove and sent them skittering sideways while we pulled ahead.

"Nice work, Tyson!" I yelled.

"Birds!" he cried.

"What?"

We were whipping along so fast it was hard to hear or see anything, but Tyson pointed toward the woods and I saw what he was worried about. The pigeons had risen from the

trees. They were spiraling like a huge tornado, heading toward the track.

_No big deal, _I told myself. _They're just pigeons._

I tried to concentrate on the race.

We made our first turn, the wheels creaking under us, the chariot threatening to tip, but we were now only ten feet behind Annabeth. If I could just get a little closer, Tyson could use his pole….

Annabeth's fighter wasn't smiling now. He pulled a javelin from his collection and took aim at me. He was about to throw when we heard the screaming.

The pigeons were swarming—thousands of them dive-bombing the spectators in the stands, attacking the other chariots. Beckendorf was mobbed. His fighter tried to bat the birds away but he couldn't see anything. The chariot veered off course and plowed through the strawberry fields, the mechanical horses steaming.

In the Ares chariot, Clarisse barked an order to her fighter, who quickly threw a screen of camouflage netting over their basket. The birds swarmed around it, pecking and clawing at the fighter's hands as he tried to hold up the net, but Clarisse just gritted her teeth and kept driving. Her skeletal horses seemed immune to the distraction. The pigeons pecked uselessly at their empty eye sockets and flew through their rib cages, but the stallions kept right on running.

The spectators weren't so lucky. The birds were slashing at any bit of exposed flesh, driving everyone into a panic. Now that the birds were closer, it was clear they weren't normal pigeons. Their eyes were beady and evil-looking. Their beaks were made of bronze, and judging from the yelps of the campers, they must've been razor sharp. All of a sudden a few hundred if not thousands of gallons of water came out of nowhere. Everyone was under water for a few seconds, but then the water vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Most of the chairots were ruined or destroyed.

Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks. Everyone was soaking wet except for Lilly and I and our cuts had started to heal.

The kids from Aphrodite's cabin were screaming because their hairdos had been ruined and their clothes pooped on.

"Bravo!" Tantalus said, but he wasn't looking at Lilly. "We have our first winner!" He walked to the finish line and awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse.

Then he turned and smiled at me. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."

**A/N So listen, I need your opinion. Who would you rather have as a couple? Hermes/Lilly or Nico/Lilly? I need opinions!**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own this. Credits to Rick Riordan and the 70's show. Lilly POV.

**I Accept Gifts from a Stranger**

The way Tantalus saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Annabeth, Tyson, and Percy hadn't disturbed them with their bad chariot driving.

This was so completely unfair, Percy told Tantalus to go chase a doughnut, which didn't help his mood.

He sentenced them to kitchen patrol—scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed with lava instead of water, to get that extra-clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so Annabeth, Percy and I had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons. I wasn't sentenced to the punishment but I helped anyway.

Tyson didn't mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Annabeth and Percy had to suffer through hours of hot, dangerous work, especially since there were tons of extra plates. I didn't get burned much but I had done this before. Tantalus had ordered a special luncheon banquet to celebrate Clarisse's chariot victory—a full-course meal featuring country-fried Stymphalian death-bird.

The only good thing about our punishment was that it gave Annabeth and Percy a common enemy and lots of time to talk.

After listening to Percy's dream about Grover again, and our conversation the other day, she looked like she might be starting to believe Percy.

"It's true Annabeth. We have to find the fleece it's the only way." I said.

"It could cure Thalia's tree." Percy added.

Annabeth nodded. "And it would totally strengthen the borders of Camp Half-Blood. But Percy, the Fleece has been missing for centuries. Tons of heroes have searched for it with no luck."

"Well do you have any other ideas? If you do tell me! Because now would be the time!" I said.

Annabeth hesitated. "What if it's a trap?"

I remembered last summer, how Kronos had manipulated our quest. He'd almost fooled us into helping him start a war that would've destroyed Western Civilization.

"I know it could be a trap Annabeth ,I'm not stupid. But take a look around! If we don't do something soon camp will be destroyed!"

She glanced at Tyson, who'd lost interest in our conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava.

"Percy and Lilly," she said under her breath, "we'll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the _worst _of the Cyclopes. And there's only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters."

"I know Annabeth. I'll tell you again, i'm not stupid." I said.

"It's still a huge area, Lilly. Searching for one tiny island in monster-infested waters—"

"I know that too. Believe it or not I do have some intelligence."

"Then how do you suggest we find it miss-know-it-all?" She asked.

"30,31,75,12." I told her.

"What?" She asked.

"You say your smarter than me. You've heard the numbers before. Figure it out."

"I'v never heard those numbers before."

"We all have." I gestured to all four of us.

"The gray sisters." Percy said. "30,31,75,12... are those map coordinates?"

"Yep." I agreed.

"Sounds good to me." Percy mumbled.

Annabeth knit her eyebrows. "We'll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He'll say no."

"Not if we tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everybody. The whole camp will hear. They'll pressure him. He won't be able to refuse." Percy said.

"And if that doesn't work we can sneak out and go anyway." I said.

"Maybe." A little bit of hope crept into Annabeth's voice_. _"We'd better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?"

That night at the campfire, Apollo's cabin led the sing-along.

They tried to get everybody's spirits up, but it wasn't easy after that afternoon's bird attack. We all sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing halfheartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres.

We _did _all the standard camp numbers: "Down by the Aegean," "I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa," "This Land is Minos's Land."

I suffered through it.

The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing color and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, I'd seen it twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row's marshmallows burst into the flames. Tonight, the fire was only five feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the color of lint.

Dionysus left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back toward the Big House.

When the last song was over, Tantalus said, "Well, that was lovely!"

He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames.

Tantalus turned back toward us, smiling coldly. "Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow's schedule."

"Sir," Percy said.

Tantalus's eye twitched. "Our kitchen boy has some thing to say?"

Some of the Ares campers snickered but Percy stood and looked at Annabeth and I. We stood up too.

I said, "We have an idea to save the camp."

Dead silence, but I could tell I'd gotten everybody's interest, because the campfire flared bright yellow.

"Indeed," Tantalus said blandly. "Well, if it has anything to do with chariots—"

"The Golden Fleece," Percy said. "We know where it is."

The flames burned orange. Before Tantalus could stop me, Percy blurted out his dream about Grover and Polyphemus's island. I told them about the golden fleece and our conversation with Athena.

"The Fleece can save the camp," Annabeth concluded. "I'm certain of it."

"Nonsense," said Tantalus. "We don't need saving."

Everybody stared at him until Tantalus started looking uncomfortable.

"Besides," he added quickly, "the Sea of Monsters? That's hardly an exact location. You wouldn't even know where to look."

"Yes, I would," Percy and I said simultaneously.

"30, 31, 75, 12," Percy said.

"Ooo-kay," Tantalus said. "Thank you for sharing those meaningless numbers."

"They're sailing coordinates," Percy said. "Latitude and longitude. I, uh, learned about it in social studies."

Even Annabeth looked impressed.

"30 degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west. The Gray Sisters gave us those coordinates. That'd be somewhere in the Atlantic, off the coast of Florida. The Sea of Monsters. We need a quest!" I said.

"Wait just a minute," Tantalus said.

But the campers took up the chant. "We need a quest! We need a quest!"

The flames rose higher.

"It isn't necessary!" Tantalus insisted.

"WE NEED A QUEST! WE NEED A QUEST!"

"Fine!" Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger. "You brats want me to assign a quest?"

"YES!"

"Very well," he agreed. "I shall authorize a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying."

"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!" Tantalus announced. "And choose two companions for the journey. And I think the choice of champion is obvious."

Tantalus looked at Annabeth and me as if he wanted to slay us alive.

"We're going to have to sneak out." I whispered to Percy.

"The champion should be one who has earned the camp's respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races. _You _shall lead this quest ... Clarisse!" Tantalus said.

I knew it.

The fire flickered a thousand different colors. The Ares cabin started stomping and cheering, "CLARISSE! CLARISSE!"

Clarisse stood up, looking stunned. Then she swallowed, and her chest swelled with pride. "I accept the quest!"

"Wait!" Percy shouted. "Grover is my friend. The dream came to _me."_

"Sit down!" yelled one of the Ares campers. "You had your chance last summer!"

"Yeah, he just wants to be in the spotlight again!" another said.

"Don't talk to my brother like that or I'll give you a swift kick in the ass!" I yelled.

I tried to beat them up but Percy and Annabeth stopped me.

Clarisse glared at Percy. "I accept the quest!" she repeated. "I, Clarisse, daughter of Ares, will save the camp!"

The Ares campers cheered even louder. Annabeth protested, and the other Athena campers joined in. Everybody else started taking sides—shouting and arguing and throwing marshmallows. I thought it was going to turn into a full-fledged s'more war until Tantalus shouted, "Silence, you brats!"

His tone stunned even me.

"Sit down!" he ordered. "And I will tell you a ghost story."

I didn't know what he was up to, but everyone else moved reluctantly back to our seats. I just stood there. "Sit down!" He yelled.

"I don't want to!"

Instead of arguing he just started to tell the story.

"Once upon a time there was a mortal king who was beloved of the Gods!" Tantalus put his hand on his chest.

"That's why your father blasted you with his master bolt." I told him.

"This king," he said, "was even allowed to feast on Mount Olympus. But when he tried to take some ambrosia and nectar back to earth to figure out the recipe—just one little doggie bag, mind you—the gods punished him."

"Of course they did. You weren't suppose to introduce that stuff to mortals but you didn't listen. You were a trouble maker." I said.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a dog!" He said.

"Arf!" I said. Some kids snickered.

"They banned him from their halls forever!" He continued. "His own people mocked him! His children scolded him! And, oh yes, campers, he had horrible children. Children—just—like— you."

He pointed a crooked finger at several people in the audience, including me.

"Aw, thanks!I love knowing I can annoy you!" I responded.

"Do you know what he did to his ungrateful children?" Tantalus asked softly. Of course I knew.

"You're dumb and you're an ass. You're a dumbass!"

He glared at me but continued.

"You know how he paid back the gods for their cruel punishment?"

"This is boring I'm going to bed." I said. I got up, but instead I walked down to the big house.

When I got to the porch Dionysus would have normally been playing cards with Chiron. Today he just sat there staring off into space.

I tapped his shoulder.

"Dionysus."

He turned around and sighed.

"Hello Lacy."

It wasn't worth my time to correct him. I took the seat next to him and started rambling on about everything that had happened in the last few days. I was talking to myself really, but I got the feeling that Dionysus was listening anyway. For some weird reason, it's a lot better to talk to some one that hasn't been in the situation. Because if you talk to someone who has been in the situation, you both complain and stress each other out, or you fight. When I finally finished we both just sat in silence for a minute.

"He picked Clarisse?" Dionysus asked.

"Yep." I said.

Neither of us said anything for a minute.

"Do you really think Clarisse can save camp?" He asked. I thought about it for a minute. The weird thing is that even though he pretends to hate camp, I knew Dionysus wanted to save it as much as I did, which was the only reason he was still talking to me.

"I honestly don't know."

"Go anyway." Dionysus suggested.

"Won't Tantalus notice we're missing?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it I'll make something up!"

I stood up. "Alright, thanks Dionysus."

Just when I was about to leave Dionysus called after me.

"Lilly?"

I noticed he got my name right but I didn't say anything about it.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Good luck saving camp. And if you ever tell anyone we had this conversation..."

I couldn't help smile.

"I won't." I promised.

When I got back to my cabin Percy and Tyson were asleep.

I shook Percy's shoulder. I told him I wanted to talk to him outside. He got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. He grabbed a beach blanket and a six-pack of Coke from under my bunk. The Cokes were against the rules. No outside snacks or drinks were allowed, but if you talked to the right guy in Hermes's cabin and paid him a few golden drachma, he could smuggle in almost anything from the nearest convenience store. I don't like pop.

Sneaking out after curfew was against the rules, too. But we left the cabin and headed for the beach anyway.

We spread the blanket near the surf and Percy popped open a Coke.

I told Percy that we should go anyway. I avoided my conversation with Dionysus I was in the middle of convincing Percy to come with me when somebody said, "Beautiful, aren't they?"

Percy jumped.

We turned around.

Standing right next to me was a guy in nylon running shorts and a New York City Marathon T-shirt. He was slim and fit, with salt-and-pepper hair. He was looking up at the stars.

"Hello Hermes." I said.

"May I join you?" he asked. "I haven't sat down in ages."

Percy said, "Uh, sure."

He smiled. "Your hospitality does you credit. Oh, and Coca-Cola! May I?"

He sat next to me. Then he popped a soda and took a drink. "Ah ... that hits the spot. Peace and quiet at—"

A cell phone went off in his pocket.

"You always jinx yourself." I noted.

Hermes sighed. He pulled out his phone and it glowed with a bluish light. When he extended the antenna, two creatures began writhing around it—green snakes, no bigger than earthworms. George and Martha.

He checked his LCD display and cursed. "I've got to take this. Just a sec ..." Then into the phone: "Hello?"

He listened. The mini-snakes writhed up and down the antenna right next to his ear.

"Yeah," He said. "Listen—I know, but... I don't care if he _is _chained to a rock with vultures pecking at his liver, if he doesn't have a tracking number, we can't locate his package... A gift to humankind, great... You know how many of those we deliver—Oh, never mind. Listen, just refer him to Eris in customer service. I gotta go."

He hung up. "Sorry. The overnight express business is just booming. Now, as I was saying—"

"You have snakes on your phone." Percy commented.

"What? Oh, they don't bite. Say hello, George and Martha."

_Hello, George and Martha, _a raspy male voice said inside my head.

_Don't be sarcastic, _said a female _voice._

_Why not? _George demanded. _I do all the _real _work._

"Oh, let's not go into that again!" Hermes slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Now, where were we ... Ah, yes. Peace and quiet."

He crossed his ankles and stared up at the stars. "Been a long time since I've gotten to relax. Ever since the telegraph—rush, rush, rush. Do you have a favorite constellation, Percy?"

Percy said, "Uh, I like Hercules."

"Why?"

"Well ... because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."

Hermes chuckled. "Not because he was strong and famous and all that?"

"No."

"You're an interesting young man. And so, what now?"

I knew immediately what he was asking. What did I intend to do about the Fleece?

"I know I'm going." I said.

Percy was about to say something but before he could answer, Martha the snake's muffled voice came from Hermes pocket: _I have Demeter on line two._

"Not now," the he said. "Tell her to leave a message."

_She's not going to like that. The last time you put her off, all the flowers in the floral delivery division wilted._

"Just tell her I'm in a meeting!" Hermes rolled his eyes. "Sorry again, Percy. You were saying ..."

"You're Hermes?" Percy asked.

Hermes took out his phone again. "Original form, please."

The phone glowed a brilliant blue. It stretched into a three-foot-long wooden staff with dove wings sprouting out the top. George and Martha, now full-sized green snakes, coiled together around the middle. It was a caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven.

The god pursed his lips. He stuck his caduceus in the sand like an umbrella pole.

George and Martha started arguing over rats again.

"Behave, you two," Hermes warned, "or I'll turn you back into a cell phone and set you on vibrate! Now, Percy, you still haven't answered my question. What do you intend to do about the quest?"

"I—I don't have permission to go."

I didn't say anything.

"No, indeed. Will that stop you?" Hermes asked.

"I want to go. I have to save Grover." Percy said.

"I'm going." I said.

Hermes smiled. "I knew a boy once ... oh, younger than you by far. A mere baby, really."

_Here we go again, _George said. _Always talking about himself_

_Quiet! _Martha snapped. _Do you want to get set on vibrate?_

Hermes ignored them. "One night, when this boy's mother wasn't watching, he sneaked out of their cave and stole some cattle that belonged to Apollo."

"Did he get blasted to tiny pieces?" Percy asked.

"Hmm ... no. Actually, everything turned out quite well. To make up for his theft, the boy gave Apollo an instrument he'd invented—a lyre. Apollo was so enchanted with the music that he forgot all about being angry."

"So what's the moral?"

"The moral?" Hermes asked. "Goodness, you act like it's a fable. It's a true story. Does truth have a moral?"

"Um ..."

"How about this: stealing is not always bad?"

"I don't think my mom would like that moral."

I smiled.

_Rats are delicious, _suggested George.

_What does that have to do with the story? _Martha demanded.

_Nothing, _George said. _But I'm hungry._

"I've got it," Hermes said. "Young people don't always do what they're told, but if they can pull it off and do something wonderful, sometimes they escape punishment. How's that?"

"You're saying I should go anyway," I said, "even without permission."

Hermes's eyes twinkled. "Martha, may I have the first package, please?"

Martha opened her mouth ... and kept opening it until it was as wide as my arm. She belched out a stainless steel canister—an old-fashioned lunch box thermos with a black plastic top. The sides of the thermos were enameled with red and yellow Ancient Greek scenes—a hero killing a lion; a hero lifting up Cerberus, the three-headed dog.

"That's Hercules," Percy said. "But how—"

"Never question a gift," Hermes chided. "This is a collector's item from _Hercules Busts Heads. _The first season."

_"Hercules Busts Heads?"_

"Great show." Hermes sighed. "Back before Hephaestus-TV was all reality programming. Of course, the thermos would be worth much more if I had the whole lunch box—"

_Or if it hadn't been in Martha's mouth, _George added.

_I'll get you for that. _Martha began chasing him around the caduceus.

"Wait a minute," I said. "This is a gift?"

"One of two," Hermes said. "Go on, pick it up."

Percy almost dropped it.

"It's a compass!" He said.

Hermes looked surprised. "Very clever. I never thought of that. But its intended use is a bit more dramatic. Uncap it, and you will release the winds from the four corners of the earth to speed you on your way. Not now! And please, when the time comes, only unscrew the lid a tiny bit. The winds are a bit like me—always restless. Should all four escape at once ... ah, but I'm sure you'll be careful. And now my second gift. George?"

_She's touching me, _George complained as he and Martha slithered around the pole.

"She's _always _touching you," Hermes said. "You're intertwined. And if you don't stop that, you'll get knotted again!

The snakes stopped wrestling.

George unhinged his jaw and coughed up a little plastic bottle filled with chewable vitamins.

"You're kidding," Percy said. "Are those Minotaur-shaped?"

Hermes picked up the bottle and rattled it. "The lemon ones, yes. The grape ones are Furies, I think. Or are they hydras? At any rate, these are potent. Don't take one unless you really, really need it."

"How will I know if I really, really need it?"

"You'll know, believe me. Nine essential vitamins, minerals, amino acids ... oh, everything you need to feel your self again."

He tossed Percy the bottle.

"Um, thanks," He said. "But Lord Hermes, why are you helping me?"

He gave him a melancholy smile. "Perhaps because I hope that you can save many people on this quest, Percy. Not just your friend Grover."

My brother stared at him. "You don't mean ... _Luke?"_

Hermes didn't answer. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Look," Percy said. "Lord Hermes, I mean, thanks and everything, but you might as well take back your gifts. Luke can't be saved. Even if I could find him ... he told me he wanted to tear down Olympus stone by stone. He betrayed everybody he knew. He—he hates you especially."

Hermes gazed up at the stars. "My dear young cousin, if there's one thing I've learned over the eons, it's that you _can't _give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it. It doesn't matter if they hate you, or embarrass you, or simply don't appreciate your genius for inventing the Internet—"

"You invented the Internet?"

_It was my idea, _Martha said.

_Rats are delicious, _George said.

"It was _my _idea!" Hermes said. "I mean the Internet, not the rats."

I chuckled.

"But that's not the point." Hermes said. "Percy, do you understand what I'm saying about family?"

"I—I'm not sure."

"I get it."

"You will some day." Hermes promised Percy. Hermes got up and brushed the sand off his legs. "In the meantime, I must be going."

_You have sixty calls to return, _Martha said.

_And one thousand-thirty-eight e-mails, _George added. _Not counting the offers for online discount ambrosia._

"And you, Percy," Hermes said, "have a shorter deadline than you realize to complete your quest. Your friends should be coming right about ... now."

I heard Annabeth's voice calling our name's from the sand dunes. Tyson, too, was shouting from a little bit farther away.

"I hope I packed well for you," Hermes said. "I do have some experience with travel."

He snapped his fingers and four yellow duffel bags appeared at my feet.

"Waterproof, of course. If you ask nicely, your father should be able to help you reach the ship."

"Ship?" Percy asked.

Hermes pointed. Sure enough, a big cruise ship was cutting across Long Island Sound, its white-and-gold lights glowing against the dark water.

"Wait," Percy said. "I don't understand any of this. I haven't even agreed to go!"

"I'd make up your mind in the next five minutes, if I were you," Hermes advised. "That's when the harpies will come to eat you. Now, good night, cousin, and dare I say it? May the gods go with you."

He opened his hand and the caduceus flew into it.

_Good luck, _Martha told me.

_Bring me back a rat, _George said.

The caduceus changed into a cell phone and Hermes slipped it into his pocket.

He jogged off down the beach. Twenty paces away, he shimmered and vanished.


End file.
